Rumor Has It I'm The One You're Leaving Her For
by FromPrussiaWithLove
Summary: Ludwig has Feliciana. Gilbert has Elizaveta, so why is he coming onto Ludwig? Germancest. Please review.
1. One

**Rumor Has It I'm The One You're Leaving Her For.**

**Summary:** Gilbert has Elizaveta, so why is he coming onto Ludwig? Germancest.

**Rating:** M, Germancest.

**One.**

I always get dragged around by Bruder and his girlfriend. It's just awkward because I'm just there to be a third wheel and boost his confidence. Today, it's a romance movie, and all I wanted to do was stay home, read my book, and drink my coffee. 'No,' he said as he dragged me out the door, and now everyone's looking at the awkward guy all alone behind the couple who are practically getting it on in the theater. They must think I'm a pervert. He owes me. Deep in my thoughts, I never recognised my brother staring at me as he made out with his girlfriend, that's even more awkward!

I look at the screen, and I have to question why books and movies about romance get popular. It's never going to happen in real life. Why should I watch and enjoy some random couple's happiness when I don't know them? Why should they be happy while I have to watch my brother try to stick his tongue down his girlfriend's throat? This is ridiculous; everyone around me is bawling their eyes out for a girl who just got dumped by a sleaze-bag boyfriend that was obviously cheating on her. How is this a decent storyline? I wish Bruder would have chosen that superhero movie; those movies don't bug me because they're supposed to be extremely out of proportion.

"Hey!" Bruder hisses at me.

"Ja?" I reply blankly.

"Let's go, I'm about to get some, ke-se-se-se, worth the dumb movie in my eyes." He rants as he stands up. No wonder we always sit in the back of theaters.

"Ok," I shuffle to the end of the row of seats.

"Oh, and you're driving; I'm gonna be busy." He smirks as he guides his girl out of the theater. Maybe if it weren't for my brother's douche-bag attitude, I would have a girl of my own... Probably not...

"Well, even if I said 'no,' you'd still take care of your business." I mutter under my breath.

"Ja, it'd be fun!"

"Nein, it's my car, you jerk." I remind as we walk towards a silver Saab, excellent condition.

"I wish you'd get the pole out of your ass. The car's not even German, so wreck the shit and sue the other person for fucking up your car and buy a goddamn Benz!" He complains.

"I'll get one when you grow up." I sigh as I slip into the car's driver seat. I watch the rear-view mirror to see if Gilbert and his girlfriend are in the car. "Seat-belts?"

"If they're not for bondage, then no. Don't you know anything?" He retorts as he kisses his girlfriend.

"You _really _are thinking of doing it in my car." I turn to the windshield, start the engine, and then start to head home.

"Ahh~, Gil." I can hear her muffled moans.

"Mmmm, Liz." This is more than awkward. He's _trying _to turn me into a sick pervert! "Hey, Ludwig, open this for me; I can't get it." He hands me a little plastic square; I don't get the chance to examine it until the stop light. When I recognize what it is, my face burns red, and he laughs at me, as I nervously open the condom wrapper. "For someone who's a virgin, you're pretty good at opening these; maybe, you should start a business."

"Gil, I need you, _now_." She hisses at him; I can feel a lump in my throat form, my mouth going dry.

"Ja, give me a second." I can see them from the rear-view mirror, and sadly, I can't tell you that I _wasn't _aroused. Then more sounds emit from the backseat, sexual sounds, and I have never been happier to pull into the driveway of the house. "Oh, Ludwig? Leave your car unlocked; I have to finish up."

"Don't make a mess." That's all I can say?

"We won't; it just may smell like stale awesomeness and sex tomorrow." I have to get a new car, now, but that can wait. I can feel my pants getting uncomfortably tight at the sight of her shirt pushed up to her armpits, her underwear bouncing on one of her ankles, and how red her face is, as she moans his name, is just too _hot._ I make my way to the house, inconspicuously, hopefully. Once in the house, I hastily make my way to my bedroom to relieve my temporary stress. After I've closed my door, my pants just fly off, and my boxers do as they please as I lean on my bed against the wall. I don't normally do this. I don't watch porn, but who would need to if their brothers kept having sex in their car as they were driving? A blush crawls across my face as I grip my arousal and relieve myself of all of today's events. After I've completely _relieved _myself to the thoughts of her being with me instead of my brother, I take a shower to clean off the smell of sweat and other things.

All I really wanted to do today was read and drink my coffee...

**A/N:** I'm not an expert with Germancest, so tips and pointers would be greatly appreciated. I hope I am able to write up to your standards. Please review/critique.

~FromPrussiaWithLove


	2. Two

**Two.**

I wake to the smell of breakfast, which means Bruder is cooking which _also_ means I'm going to be doing dishes. A knock echoes from the door, and I really don't want to deal with him. I pull my comforter over my head and feign sleep as I hear the door being painfully kicked open. I hear his footsteps around my bed.

"Guten morgen, now get your lazy ass up." He greets. I'm not the lazy one. "Hey, Ludwig, I made coffee." He tries, and I'm tempted. "Fine, desperate measures will be taken!" He flips the cover off of my face and leans down so he's level with my face. I can feel his breath on my skin, see his shadow over closed eyes. I know he's weird, but I wasn't expecting _this_. His way of waking me up is mouth-to-mouth. There's _no _way that I _wouldn't_ smack him off me. "And you're awake now~!"

"Ja, get me coffee and clean _your _mess." I reply my hand covering my already red face. Why of all people do I have to live with _him_. Well, I guess it's better than his friend Francis; he's really creepy.

"I'm not your bitch, get it yourself." He retorts carelessly as he returns downstairs.

"Fine." I slip out of bed and walk downstairs. I find there's no reason to get dressed just yet; besides, wearing just boxers is fine around the house. I wander into the kitchen, grab a coffee mug, fill it with coffee. I like my coffee black; it's more refreshing that way.

"Nice boxers, Bruder." Gilbert calls from the table.

"Ja, whatever." I reply as I turn around, and there _they _are. Bruder's two best friends: Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo, Francis Bonnefoy.

"Oui, he looks sexy." Francis pokes.

"No, Lovi looks cuter." Antonio states.

"Francis, eyes off mein Bruder." Bruder hisses.

"Oh, does Gilbert have a secret longing for his brother's ass?" Francis teases. "I must admit though, Ludwig Weillschmidt, that is a _sexy_ piece of ass."

"I'm going upstairs to read." I state as I walk out the room.

"That's _all _you do; I swear you should work at a library or something!" Bruder pesters.

"I _own _a bookstore! _Remember_?" Yeah, he's an idiot. One thing our Vati left us was a bookstore, but Bruder just ignored it. I like it there; it's nice to have responsibility.

"Nein, he's just on his period." Bruder jokes with his friends. I close the door behind me. Damn, the coffee is lukewarm now, and that's just gross. I set down the coffee to slick back my hair. I smell like stale Old Spice and books; I should take a shower. I sneak to the bathroom because I would prefer to not be indirectly molested by the 'Bad Touch Trio.'

I close the door and listen to their laughs and loud reminiscing. I turn the knobs of the shower; I prefer scalding hot showers. I slide the glass panel open and step under the water. Instinctively, I slide the door shut and close my eyes as I stand under the shower-head. I reach over to the shelf in the shower for my shampoo, Old Spice. Yes, I use a lot of Old Spice, but that's because it's the only thing that Bruder won't use. Otherwise, he always uses all of my cologne, shampoo, and body wash. Showering is a mindless task to me; I honestly don't know what there is to think about when you wash your hair. Do people think 'does this smell nice?' 'Will people notice me more?' It's stupid. In the midst of me washing my hair, the door slams open.

"Dammit, Bruder! What the hell?" I shout. Shampoo dripping into my eyes, temporarily blinding me.

"I left something in here." He replies oblivious.

"Get out!"

"Nein! I have to find it." He picks up something. "Ah~, found it. Let's go. We're taking your car, Ludwig."

"It was nice to see you mostly naked and a silhouette of you naked~~!" Francis cheers as he walks past the door.

"Shit!" I grab a towel off the rack. Wiping my eyes, I wrap the towel around my waist. No, he _will not _take my car! "Gilbert Frederick Weillschmidt get your white ass over here!"

"Awww, look at my threatening little Bruder." Bruder covers his mouth. "Ke-se-se-se! You look fucking ridiculous!"

"You are _not _taking _my _car!" I make my way towards him; my eyes sting like hell.

"Says the kid in a towel with shampoo in his hair."

"Give me those!" I grab the keys out of his hand. "I need them for work; one of them opens the bookstore."

"Then take that one and give me the rest."

"Nein! I paid for that car, get your own. You always wanted a Benz."

"_You _have the money for a Benz, so let me wreck your piece of shit to motivate you to buy one!"

"We could all just go in my car." Francis chimes in.

"Shut up, Francis!" Bruder and I yell at the Frenchman. It's not about the car anymore it's a sibling rivalry thing again.

"Amigo, we'll just take Francis' car." Antonio interjects as he and Francis drag Bruder towards the car.

"Ja." He agrees. "Wash the damn bubbles out of your hair." He hisses at me. I swear he hates me.

– –

I turn the key in the bookstore's lock, while apologizing to a customer for opening so late. I had to finish my shower, get dressed, and make more coffee; by the time I looked up at a clock it was 11:28. The girl laughs and just admits 'this is my favorite bookstore, so it's fine. I love it here, even if I have to wait to get in.' She's almost here every other day, an avid reader. I watch her wander about the shelves. She's kind of cute, a bit ditzy though. Her auburn hair is always in a ponytail, and she always buys a book on Italian cuisine whenever she buys something. She's sweet though, and it's a nice contrast in comparison with Bruder.

"Hello~~~? Anyone home?" She asks. I guess I spaced out for a while.

"Ja," I answer; she's so cute.

"What happened to the other guy here? He looked like you, just older."

"Other guy? Oh, Vati, he retired and moved to the country." He was kind of disillusioned and needed to get away anyways.

"Oh, well, I like seeing you around here more." She smiles.

"Danke, so what are today's picks?" I look for her books.

"I don't have any. I just wanted to talk to you. You're always sitting at the register reading, writing, and occasionally typing. I never really talk to you."

"I'm still in school, but I need to work to pay tuition. So I try to work and study. Sorry, I'm not the more interesting person alive."

"I think you're interesting, ha-ha. Is that weird?" Her Italian accent is seeping into her speech. I've never noticed it before.

"Nein, well, maybe. Am I weird? Ha-ha." I've honestly never laughed like this in a while... Always chauffeuring Bruder and his girlfriend, working, or studying, I'm not very social...

"Are you working tomorrow evening?" She asks nervously.

"No, but I have class, why?"

"Well, I had this thing, but never mind." She smiles weakly.

"When is it?"

"Tomorrow, 5:30-7:00."

"I can make it, I don't have class until 8:00." Okay, I lied it's at 7:30, but I need to get out and do stuff for myself sometimes.

"Yay! I'll meet you here at 5:00? Casual-formal." She informs as she dashes out the door. A date? I smile a bit; she _is _cute.

**A/N:** Slight Germany-Italy, but that's no big deal, right? Please Review.

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	3. Three

**Three.**

I look through my closet, casual-formal. How do I draw the line between casual and formal that is just right? I scan through all my clothes: button-ups, sweaters, long sleeves, t-shirts, polos, jeans, black pants, socks, blazers, jackets, shoes. I have a lot of clothes; most of them are too small. I am one of the rare occurrences where _my _hand-me-downs go to my _older_ brother, but if isn't unnecessarily expensive or bad-ass, he won't touch it... I look at my shoes: sneakers, brand name sneakers with pure white soles, formal black shoes, formal brown shoes, running sneakers. I reach towards a ruined pair of shoes when my phone rings. I look at my desk, walk over, and pick up the phone when I see the caller ID.

"Guten Nacht, Ludwig." A familiar voice greets me.

"Ja, hallo, Mutti." I smile. Bruder thinks it's hilarious that I miss Mutti and Vati as much as I do.

"I'm going to be in town tomorrow, so how about some lunch at the deli next to the bookstore?" She sounds nervous.

"Sure, I'd love to." It's been six months since they moved anyways.

"Ach, and could you bring your brother?" She half-begs.

"Ja, I'll try..." They only left because of Bruder and them fighting till dawn every other day.

"Danke," the phone line goes dead. I place the phone on the desk. Fuck, he's going to kill me. I turn back to my closet. A polo, blazer, nice jeans, and clean looking shoes. The neatness should fill in for the formality. I laugh; why am I so excited about this? I blush at the thought of Feliciana, so carefree. I hear a knock on my door, and before I get to answer it, it flies open and Bruder is looking pissed enough to spit fire.

"Did that bitch call you?" He sneers.

"You shouldn't call Mu–" I try to defend.

"Fuck you. She always loved you because you weren't a _mistake_." His anger seethes through his words.

"You weren't a mistake!" His anger is uncontrollable. "You were just reckless."

"And you're a fucking tight-ass." His red eyes intensify his hatred.

"At least I get shit done!"

"So you're saying I'm not capable of finishing something? I'm sorry that I didn't want to waste away reading books, be a hermit who studies people from afar, and stay a virgin all my life."

"Why are you such a dick?"

"'Cause I _have _one." He's just trying to push it now.

"Whatever," I turn away from him.

"And if you're going out with that Vargas chick, Antonio screwed both of them. He may only be dating Lovina, but shit, they're a package deal." He smirks at my reaction.

"Who cares? It's not happening now, so it doesn't matter."

"Whatever, you just wanted to be with her because you thought, 'she's so cute and innocent and probably a virgin, so it won't be awkward when she knows more than I do.' You fucking idiot, 'it's not happening now?' She's always with her sister, who's always with Antonio."

"Why does it matter to you what _I _do? Worry about yourself, unemployed and uneducated." I don't have the patience to be nice anymore.

"First of all, I'm _not _unemployed. I work at the bar down the street. Second, I finished high school at the _top _of my class, so don't call me uneducated, Sir Salutatorian."

"You only got good grades because you slept with or blackmailed all your teachers."

"And you _still _got salutatorian." He sighs. "This is boring."

"What? You're the one who burst into my room."

"And I'm lucky I didn't find you jerking it." He walks to the door. "Oh, and here's something to look at when you do." He carelessly throws a Polaroid over his shoulder.

"Why would I be _jerking it_ to a picture of someone I don't know?"

"Oh, you know her." He shuts the door behind him. I look at the picture. A blush coats his face. The picture is of someone he most _definitely _knows. It's Feliciana, face red, held by a familiar Spaniard. I can't help but feel a little less confident and a little more depressed. Fuck you, Bruder.

– –

I get dressed in a black and white polo, a pair of dark-wash jeans, a black blazer, black socks, brand new black and white converse sneakers. I plan on lunch with Mutti, work, the thing with Feliciana, and class. I sling my messenger bag over my shoulder as I walk out the door. I walk to the kitchen, no rush, but I would _love _to enjoy a cup of coffee on my way to the deli, where Mutti wanted to meet. I've decided that, after last night's conversation, Bruder doesn't want to come to lunch. I tap the counter with impatience. Coffee is only water filtered through beans; why does it take so damn long? I've tried instant coffee, and it's gross. I want this to finish up, so I don't run into Bruder again. I hear a quiet laugh and realize that Bruder must have invited Elizaveta over; he always does when he gets pissed. She's his stress relief. Now, I _really_ want to leave; things get awkward when Elizaveta's around, mostly because Bruder really just 'dates' her for sex. The coffee maker beeps, and I eagerly pour the coffee into a thermos and walk out. I don't plan on driving, so just in case, I lock the car as I walk towards the deli. I sip my coffee and remember why I love living up north; no matter what season, it's never too hot to drink coffee. I open the glass door to the deli, and like always, Mutti is there before me. She smiles at me.

"Must you always drink coffee?" She laughs.

"Ja, it's refreshing." I take a sip.

"Yet, you know what that does to your brain."

"So? I just have Advil on me all the time."

"I guess you aren't eating?" She frowns a bit. She still looks young, for fifty.

"Nein, nothing at a deli goes down well with coffee, but I'll go get your order if you want me to." I offer.

"It's fine, I ate before you got here. Ha-ha, so how's my boy?" She smiles.

"Working at the bookstore six days a week, taking 17 credit hours of classes, and trying not to kill Bruder."

"Do you have a _date_ tonight?" She jeers.

"Well... She said it was just a thing to go to, but she said casual formal. Why? Does it look bad?" I feel stupid.

"You look great, sweetheart. Now, about your brother?"

"He hates me." I reply bluntly. He _does_.

"Ludwig, Gilbert has issues with admitting anything, but he doesn't hate you. He's just frustrated right now with his girlfriend and everything."

"Elizaveta?" I can't think of anytime that the two have ever fought.

"Ja, he loves her so, but she's engaged to another man. I wish that girl would stop playing him like he's some cheap game of poker. He doesn't want to admit that he loves her, especially not now, so he just gets mad, drunk, and depressed." She shakes her head. "Your father and I left because he just wouldn't admit to his problems: his temper, his drinking, his random fits of depression, his ego, and his narcissism. We thought it'd be best if you stayed with him because of your studying in the field of psychology, see if you could figure out why he's like he is."

"I'm only in psychology because of Vati. He had issues with schizophrenia and bipolar disorder." I drink my coffee and mindlessly listen to Mutti for the rest of the afternoon.

**A/N:** It adds more dynamic (in my opinion) if Italy is a girl. Please review.

~FromPrussiaWithLove


	4. Four

**Four.**

I watch Mutti walk down the sidewalk towards the strip-mall. She loves going through unique shops, and no place has as many as there are here. I smile; in the end, she asked to keep my thermos, a keepsake. Strange, to anyone maybe, but I don't mind, clearly she misses her children. I open the bookstore and get situated behind the counter. _"You have to do a thesis, right?" Ja, I'm researching Vati's mentality, the way he changes with either of his episodes. "Ludwig, we _already _know what's wrong with your father, so how 'bout you do your thesis on your brother. Follow his quirks and find out what's really going on in that boy's head. Sounds fun really." _I stare at my laptop; she implies that I already delete all my research and start over just so I can research that dummkopf? I open the laptop, turn it on, and open a new word document. I'll just continue both theses, and which ever one is more interesting, I'll use. I continue noting the small things about Bruder, and the more I take note of, the more concerning it gets. Bruder does exhibit something like an impulse sort of disorder, well, except loving Elizaveta.

I glance at the clock on my laptop, 4:58. I smile, never thought it was going to come. I close my laptop and stuff my things back into my bag, as I watch Feliciana wander in front of the store. The sight of her makes me smile, a lot. I walk out of the bookstore, turn to lock up, and turn around to see her. She smiles and grabs my hand.

"I'm glad you came!" She exclaims.

"Ja, you too." I just follow her wherever we're going. She looks cute, hair down, form-fitting shirt, mini-skirt; Gott, I am a pervert... "So where are we going?"

"Well, I wanted to make you dinner." She blushes furiously. "I just wanted to talk to you outside of the bookstore."

"And the casual formal?" I ask.

"Well, you still have to impress my sister and doting grandfather." She smiles. "You look very... monochrome."

"Ah, well, I didn't know what to wear, and I just –" I run my hand through my hair and rub the back of my neck. It's a habit that I have to break.

"I think it fits you, and it makes your eyes look really pretty."

"Danke," I can feel a blush on my face.

"Oh, but men don't like being 'pretty.'"

"I don't mind. Ha-ha, a lot of people say that. It's one of my redeeming qualities." I smile, or try to, at least. She stops, lets go of my hand, and walks towards a door, probably her house. I take in a deep breath; I've never been to a girl's house before. She beckons for me to walk through the door. I comply with her demands. I slip off my shoes at the door; she stops me.

"Well, there's no telling what's on the floor, because my sister fights with her boyfriend a lot and tends to throw glass at him, so it's best if you keep your shoes on." She suggests politely.

"Ok," I slip my shoes back on. A man walks into the room; smile plastered to his face like he's wasted.

"Feliciana~~! My beautiful granddaughter!" He shouts happily.

"Nonno~~!" She greets and hugs the man close.

"And who is this?" The man has messy, brunette hair, and I feel like I've seen him somewhere before.

"This is Ludwig."

"The boy from the bookstore, how mysterious." The grandfather jeers.

"Guten Na – I mean, good evening." I correct myself.

"It's no problem, speaking a few German phrases left and right. I had a friend who spoke German almost all the time; I have a feeling it was to insult me though." He laughs at himself.

"Oops, Ludwig, this is my grandfather." She motions towards the man. I hold out my hand, confused of expectations. Her grandfather grabs my hand and shakes it violently.

"What the fucking hell is _he _doing here?" I hear a feminine voice screech.

"Lovina, this is Ludwig; he works at a bookstore." Her sister stares holes through my head.

"Ludwig? Antonio's douche-bag friend's brother, Ludwig?" Oh, great.

"I'm _not _like my Bruder." I sigh. Her sister stomps up to me and grabs my collar.

"If you _ever_ hurt Feliciana, I will send _every_ single mobster in our family after your sorry, potato-eating ass!" I don't understand how Antonio puts up with this psycho.

"Ah, ok..." I don't really know what you say to that kind of thing.

"Lovina, calm down, let's just eat dinner." Her grandfather suggests. We all walk into the dining room.

The next hour was horribly silent and awkward with Lovina trying to shoot my head off with her eyes, and then, their grandfather tried to talk my ears off my head. It's refreshing to be out of such an awkward environment and out in the fresh night air. I did enjoy Feliciana, though. She's so cute, the way she blushes when you compliment her cooking and the way she smiles when she talks about her family. I glance at my watch, 7:15. Shit! Class is still a few miles away. Why can't I just enjoy my life? I start to run. I've never been late to class, and I don't feel like breaking that record today. I hold my messenger bag back, so I can't trip over myself. I can see the building in the distance, and I'm actually surprised I made it. I check my watch as I walk through the door 7:40. Fuck. I try to sneak into the class without being noticed.

"...The fifth one is optimism vs pessimism, and yes, Mr Weillschmidt, we _can _see you trying to sneak into class." Dr. Swartz calls me out.

"Um, I had some personal stuff to take care of." I reply, running my hand through my hair.

"We all know you do that when your nervous."

"Ok, sorry, I was late." I admit sheepishly.

"Just sit down, and copy from that kid you sit next to all the time." I begin to type notes, mindlessly. Personality psychology, perfect for my situation. Isn't it strange when all the planets aline and everything for one day is related to everything else.

"Now, Lewis Goldberg had a five-dimension personality model, which we nickname the 'Big Five.' The first is 'openness to experience': the tendency to be imaginative, independent, and interested in variety vs. practical, conforming, and interested in routine. Second, conscientiousness: the tendency to be organized, careful, and disciplined vs. disorganized, careless, and impulsive. Third, extraversion: the tendency to be sociable, fun-loving, and affectionate vs. retiring, somber, and reserved. Fourth, agreeableness: the tendency to be softhearted, trusting, and helpful vs. ruthless, suspicious, and uncooperative. Final, neuroticism: the tendency to be calm, secure, and self-satisfied vs. anxious, insecure, and self-pitying. However, a lot of people debate that Golberg's 'Big Five' are missing some factors like the human concept of excelling and just finishing or evil and good. Of course, Michael Ashton and Kibeom Lee revised Goldberg's model and created the six-dimension personality model, all the same minus Honesty – Humility."

– –

I open the door to the house, and see Gilbert drinking away at the table. Time to observe. I'm not expecting surprise for all his next irrational acts; he's drunk.

"You're drinking faster than normal." I joke.

"Fuck you." He drinks another beer.

"What's the problem?"

"Elizaveta." He sighs.

"Oh, because she's marrying someone?" I accidentally blurt. He grabs the collar of my shirt, pulling me forward.

"_What did you say_?" He sounds furious.

"Um, nothing..." I try.

"_No_, you said something about _my _girlfriend getting married to that _fuck_!" I can see water forming in his eyes.

"Look, Bruder, I didn't mean to sa–" I try to get my shirt out of his hands.

"Who told you?" He sighs letting go of my shirt.

"I just _heard_..." I look away. He slams his hand on the table; the crack of wood can be heard.

"_Don't lie to me_!" I don't get it.

"I just heard it, okay?" I watch him stand up. He stops at the door.

"Whatever, I knew that bitch would tell you; she can never keep her mouth shut!" He slams his fist into the wall. Shit, now I have housework to do...

"Don't talk about Mutti like that!" He stops, and looks at me.

"I sure as hell can! She treasured you, so shut your goddamn mouth!" He walks to his room. I make a note in my head: has tiny fits of rage that are slowly getting more violent. I clean up his empty bottles and check the table. He cracked the table a bit, but nothing serious. The wall on the other hand... Shit...

I walk up to my room, set up my laptop, and place my messenger bag on the floor. I kick off my shoes, pull off my shirt, and slip off my pants. I sit on the edge of the bed, checking my email: one new message. 'Hi! It's Feliciana!' is the title of the email. I smile and blush a bit. I open it and read it: 'So, I'm not a stalker; the email just popped up in the contacts for your bookstore. Anyways, I wanted to tell you that I had fun tonight, and sorry, for dragging you to my house. I'd like to do something with you again, without my sister threatening you at every corner. Call me: 315-949-1858.' I hear a knock at the door.

"Hey, Ludwig." I hear through the door.

"Ja," I watch Bruder open the door.

"I," He rubs the back of his neck, nervously. "I just wanted to apologize for the wall. I'll fix it tomorrow. It's just; whenever I think about Elizaveta and _him_, I just get really pissed."

"It's fine as long as you fix the wall." I look back at my computer screen to read my notes.

"It's not just that. I," He looks at his feet. "I, um, never-mind."

"Okay," I watch him turn around. "Oh, could you please close the door."

"Ja," he closes the door. I swear I saw a blush on his face, but it doesn't matter if he was or wasn't. Does it?

**A/N:** So, do you think there's something wrong with Gilbert or not (in a psychological sense)?

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	5. Five

**Five.**

I open my eyes and quickly shut them again. Stupid open window, my eye color sucks against sunlight. I turn on my side and put a pillow over my face. It's Sunday, my only day off. I just want to sleep all day. I reluctantly get up when I feel the beginnings of a migraine slam into my head. I walk to the coffee machine and do my morning coffee routine like an automaton. I pour the coffee into a mug; reminder: get a new thermos. I look up at the wall; it just looks so...ugly. I find the newspaper on the kitchen table; that's a first. I skim the headlines: 'Death Penalty: Inhumane.' I guess, if you think of it from a victim perspective, you'd want the bastard dead, and if you look at it through a conservative view, you'd also want the bastard dead. So it's a self righteous, democrat, happy-go-lucky idiot who works for a newspaper. I read it anyway. Honestly, injecting someone with chemicals isn't as bad as the olden days: guillotine, someone chopping your head off by hand, firing squads, and being hung. Chemicals sound delightful compared to these barbaric methods of past lives. I hear footsteps approaching the kitchen; I glance over the newspaper.

"Hey, Bruder, put some pants on!" His voice breaks my peace. "My girlfriend doesn't feel like seeing you 80% naked 'round the house!"

"Hey, I pay the mortgage, so it's my house. Therefore, I can do whatever I want. Besides, it's my day off, the one day that I don't have to work, so let me enjoy it the way I want to." I read more of the paper.

"Whatever, you just sit at a desk all day those six days." He pokes.

"And you're on your feet, socializing which makes it a _lot_ easier to pass the time." Sitting behind a desk a day with minimal socializing is a hell of a lot worse than bar-tending.

"Anyways, Liz doesn't want to learn about the streets of Germany off the clothing on your ass!" I look down, and yes, I am wearing my boxers that have a map of Germany. I like them.

"It's better than having to see you walk around naked all the time; you fucking nudist!" And here we go again...

"Hey, boys, stop it." Elizaveta presses her hand against Bruder's chest. "It's not bad to look at either of you. Both of you are fit and attractive, but Gil is sexier."

"Ja, you have a biased opinion." I mutter.

"Fine, Bruder, let's screw the same girl, and we'll see who's better!" He challenges.

"Nein, that's stupid and you have a _girlfriend_." I reply while reading the paper and point at him.

"Ja, she's the best of the best." She kisses him.

"Thanks, Gil." She smiles.

"Ich liebe dich." He smirks triumphantly.

"Right," I interject being the third wheel that I am. "I'm going to get ready and go to the store."

"Get beer." He demands.

– –

I look around the mall. Damn, I hate this place, and where the hell did Teavana go? That's the place I got my last one, and I've had it for five years. Leave it to a car company to perfectly engineer a coffee thermos. I finally find a map for the mall, and then find that Teavana is on the other end. I don't like malls; people stop and stare at me all the time. I make my way to the store with haste; honestly, what makes me so noticeable? I look at my clothes: Marvel T-Shirt (I'm a Deadpool fan), jeans, blazer, sneakers. I don't look weird; do I? I walk into the tea store. I look around for the distinct flash of stainless steel with Nissan written on it. Nothing. I walk up to the counter, and wait for the cashier.

"Ludwig?" A familiar voice questions excitedly.

"Ja," I look at the cashier and blush, Feliciana.

"Ha-ha, this is a nice change. I always see you at work, but you never see where I work." She smiles.

"I didn't know you worked here." I state; no shit, why am I so stupid?

"I love tea, and this is the easiest way to get a discount." She jokes. "So what are you looking for? You strike me as a green tea kind of guy."

"A thermos, I got my last one here, but that was five years ago..." I rub the back of my neck; reminder: _STOP DOING THAT!_

"Hmmm, five years ago, let's see if we still have it."

"Uh, it was a stainless steel Nissan thermos. Yeah, they make more than cars." I smile nervously.

"Ha-ha, well, I think we have one left, but it's pink."

"I'll get one some other da–" I turn towards the door, and a hand grabs my shoulder.

"I was kidding." She walks over to a shelf. "Besides, I don't think they make pink stainless steel."

"I would really love a thermos that was this great quality and painted like the German flag." I mention without thinking.

"That would be cool." She hands me the thermos. "It's twenty dollars, but I can get it down to fifteen with an employee discount."

"Ah, nein, you don't have to do that for me." I really don't like people doing favors for me.

"Well, I'm not going to give you back your extra five dollars to your debt back." She teases.

"Fine, thank you for the discount."

"So what happened to your other one?" She walks behind the counter.

"My mother took it; she wanted it for a keepsake sort of thing. Ja, I know it's weird." I ramble.

"I don't think it's weird. I think it's sweet." She scans the price tag and adds her employee discount. "I _do _think it's weird that you haven't called me back yet."

"Sorry, I – there's no excuse." I admit.

"It's okay." She hands me the paper bag. "I was just teasing you after all."

"Well, I'll make it up to you. Wednesday night at 5:00, meet me at the bookstore. Casual-formal." I offer.

"This sounds familiar; are you going to cook for me?" She inquires. "Or are you asking me to cook for you again?"

"Nein, we're going to go out for dinner, away from your family. Ha-ha, sorry, but they scare me..."

"They're supposed to. They're my twin sister and grandparent."

"But still..."

"Well, I need to get back to work. See you Wednesday and at the bookstore." I wave and reluctantly step back into the sea of people in the mall. Well, with my new thermos, I am now prepared for Monday.

– –

I walk into the house; it's silent. I take off my shoes; it's still silent. I walk to my room and place my wallet on my desk as well as my phone; I hear a knock on my door. I casually open it when I walk out my door. Bruder is there, and without warning, his lips are on mine.

**A/N:** Nissan really _does_ make thermoses!

~FromPrussiaWithLove


	6. Six

**Six.**

"Bruder, what are you –" He cuts me off. I try to push him back, but he has strength that I never knew about. He presses me against the door. My head screams 'this is wrong; this is wrong.' I look at him. His eyes may be closed, but he knows that I'm looking at him.

"Nein, shut up." He growls. His lips are soft, but it doesn't matter. He's my brother. My hands are on his chest trying to push him away; he pulls away. "Well, that wasn't as fun as I thought it'd be."

"You think _this_ is fun?" I don't know why I'm angry.

"Ja, why did I just take your first kiss?" He smirks all confidence leaking throughout his being.

"Nein, but that is wrong! We're brothers!" His hand grabs my shirt.

"So?" He whispers in my ear and walks away. "And you didn't get my beer either."

"I can't; still not twenty-one." I mumble, and I swear I heard him mutter 'bullshit.'

– –

The next morning is awkward. I can't look him in the eyes, but I can't really look anywhere else. He's wearing nothing but a towel and is dripping with water; I'm _not_ attracted to him. It's just...true. He walks up to the coffee machine.

"You like your coffee black, right?" He asks nonchalantly.

"Ja," I watch him pour the coffee. "You don't have to."

"Nah, it's fine." He wipes the hair from his face and hands me the thermos. "Here."

"Danke," I smile.

"Ke-se-se-se, you still can't drop Die Deustche." A smile pulls at his lips.

"Neither can you." I state.

"Nein, I can stop whenever I want, but I love it too much."

"Well, I have to agree there, so I'm going to work." I grab my messenger bag off the floor.

"See you at 12, you know, with your man-purse."

"It's not a man-purse; it's a laptop case." I open the garage door. "Fix the wall before you go to work."

"Ja, whatever." He agrees.

I close the door behind me, open the car door, and sit down; yesterday night is still in my head. I should just forget it, but I don't want to. I don't know why. My lips still feel the warmth from his lips on mine; _no_, forget it, he has Elizaveta. I press my fingers against my temples and sip my coffee. I take a deep breath and start the car. I turn off the driveway onto the road, right onto Wintergreen Boulevard, left onto Warsaw Street, and stop at the store. I open the door, and walk over to the desk. I set up my laptop and check my email. 'Assignment' catches my attention, and I open it. 'Write an essay analyzing your thesis with Goldberg's 'Big Five.'' I open my notes on Bruder and another word document. An essay? I consider how to put this together, but in some way, I feel like I'm betraying Bruder to these people, revealing his secrets. I think I'll leave yesterday out; it was just an isolated incident.

"Hello?" A voice calls from behind one of the shelves.

"Ja," I call from the desk.

"Is there anyone working here?" The voice sounds irritated. I get up and walk around the shelves to find the unhappy customer.

"Ja," I reply kindly.

"Can you help me find a book? If you even have it..." She hisses.

"I can try; what book is it?" I don't want to deal with her.

"David Sedaris' Me Talk Pretty One Day." She glares at me.

"Ja, we have it; it's, um," I look through the shelves. "Over here." She walks over to the bookshelf.

"It's out of my reach, can you get it?" She asks, anger dropping a bit.

"Ja," I reach for the book.

"'Ja'? Are you a German wannabe or something? Blonde hair, blue eyes, speaking German, I swear you're a Nazi." She grabs the book away from me.

"I'll ring that up for you." I walk over to the desk.

"Of course." She hands me the book to scan, and I hand it back to her.

"Fifteen dollars and fifty-nine cents." I state. She hands me a twenty, and I begin to count her change.

"Keep the change; I don't want your Nazi money." She hisses as she walks out the door. I should have just said I was Jewish or something. Someone walks into the store and points his finger at me.

"You have some nerve, being that intolerant in a modern day?" He accuses.

"Sir, I think there's misunderstanding. I'm from Germany, and I don't agre–" I try to calm him down. I know I wanted publicity for the store, but...not this kind.

"How fitting he's from _Germany_!" He continues to pester.

"Germany is a proud country that was ruined by the Nazi party. I am _not_ one of them." I can't help but get the tiniest bit angry.

"Blue eyes, blonde hair. Please, who're you kidding?" He continues.

"Sir, can you please leave? My store is for customers; if you have an issue with me, take it up with me outside after hours." I have to keep a level head. Everyone thinks this way about me.

"Oh, you can bet your damn Third Reich; I will!" He promises as he leaves. Oh, great, I think I just picked a fight with someone. I look at the door, and the man who accused me is waiting. He can't seriously wait until closing time, can he? I go back to my desk and write the essay on Bruder.

– –

Okay, so some people _do _have dedication when angry, and that guy has been sitting outside the store for _five _hours. I put my laptop in my bag and leave it behind the desk. I take the keys with me out to the front of the store. I turn and lock the store, or pretend to. The man grabs me by my jacket; it's awkward because he's the slightest bit shorter.

"Sir, I will say this again; I am not a Nazi." I point out.

"Bullshit, you're an intolerant bastard." He accuses.

"Nein, ich bin nicht!" Shit.

"You, Nazi!" Some people just don't understand the fact that all Germans aren't Nazis. His fist meets my face, and I don't really feel like getting in trouble with the law. I decide to just take the beating. Besides, my refusal will make me a Nazi. A woman pulls out her phone and dials a number, hopefully nine-one-one. Well, he keeps hitting my stomach, and I guess, he prefers to spit in my face, rather than punch it. I close my eyes, and as much as I'd rather hit him back, I can't. I can see the flash of blue through my eyelids. Polizei, thank Gott. I open my eyes, when I feel the other man being pulled off of me.

"Sir, are you alright?" The officer asks me.

"Ja, I'm fine." I assure.

"There's blood on your chin."

"It's nothing." I go back into the store and pick up my bag. "If you don't mind, I have to go to class."

"You're not going to press charges?" The officer looks amazed.

"Nein, it was just a misunderstanding." I stop. "May I go?"

"Uh, yes, sir. It's all covered." He replies. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"Ja, it's fine." I smile. I get into my car and wipe the blood off my chin. I drive to class. Yeah, a lecture will help forget this. I pull into the parking lot. I peek into my rear-view mirror and attempt to fix up my appearance. I take a deep breath and head to class.

– –

I watch the others leave class, because I've been asked to stay. Dr Swartz looks at me. I rub the back of my neck.

"Who did it?" He asks, pointing at my face.

"Who did what?" I ask, knowing what he meant.

"You're a good citizen, so why are you showing up late and getting in fights?" He asks.

"Nothing." I reply nervously.

"Are you involved with dangerous crowds? Drugs?"

"No, it was just a misunderstanding. Trust me, after seeing mein Bruder end up in the ER over ten times, ja, drugs aren't my thing." I assure.

"What kind of misunderstanding?"

"Just an ethnic problem." I sigh.

"Ah, because of your German heritage?" His voice shows his disappointment.

"Ja..." I look at my feet.

"Did you fight back?"

"Nein, I can't be seen beating people up outside of mein Vati's store."

"Your father's store, I don't see how you put up with such responsibility of that store and the house at the same time." He looks away. "Well, I'll see you Wednesday."

"Ja, auf Wiedersehen." I wave behind me.

"I'm interested in seeing that essay, Weillschmidt." He calls as I walk away.

– –

I walk into the house; the wall is fixed. I smile, and my cheek decides to hurt now. I groan. I open the refrigerator and grab a beer. I don't drink as often as I used to, but I think today, I deserve a beer. I crack it open and finish it in one gulp. Oh, how good it feels to drink the amber liquid. I open another and another and another, and then I remember why I don't drink. In my short past, I have a streak of binge drinking. I look at the bottles: one, two, three, four, five, ten, fifteen, and more. My vision is getting the tiniest bit blurry. I _should _stop drinking, but it feels so nice. I hear the door open.

"Hey, I fixed your damn wa–WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE?" His shock is more of the humorous type.

"I, um, sort of got in a fight." I inform.

"And did you kick the poor bastard's face in?" His attention is peaked.

"Nein, I let the police deal with him." I open another beer.

"You're drinking." He sounds alarmed.

"Ja, so what?"

"Didn't Mutti and Vati tell you not to drink?"

"So?" I don't care what I've been told.

"You get crazy." He states solemnly.

"So, my stomach hurts, that jerk punched me there the whole time." I complain.

"Are you sure that you're okay? That could cause internal bleeding." His hands are under my shirt, pulling it off.

"What do you know?" I push him away.

"I was in grad school for medical studies, remember?" He finally gets my shirt off; his hands are on my stomach.

"What are you doing?" I inquire.

"Checking your health." He looks into my eyes. I place my hand on his face.

"I'm really drunk right now." I announce as I press my lips to his. Yup, I'm wasted.

"Ke-se-se-se, now _this _is fun." He kisses me back.

**A/N:** Germans being accused for being Nazis; it happens a lot more than some people think. Please Review.

~FromPrussiaWithLove


	7. Seven, with Gilbert

**Seven, with Gilbert.**

**A/N:** Gilbert has a very explicit mind, so warning given.

I walked in on him trying to drink his brain out again. For someone who studies destructive behaviors, he's pretty hypocritical. I attempt to tally up his alcohol count, thirty. Goddammit, I'd hate to see him get dumped; ke-se-se-se, his sorry ass would be in the ER again. Anyways, he's kissing me, so his _true_ self only comes out when he's shit-faced? That's depressing. Hell, I'll take it for what its worth. He's all tall and mean looking, but he has really soft lips. I kiss him back and bite his lip lightly. Elizaveta hates that. Elizaveta... I feel the wall against my back; who knew little Ludwig had so much lust? Dammit, he's _so _much better when he's drunk. I can feel his leg in between mine.

"Feliciana," he whispers. I punch him in the shoulder.

"Fuck you." I can't stop from shouting. Why am I mad? She's his girlfriend, and he's bruderlein! I stomp my way upstairs. I shouldn't be mad, but I'm really pissed. I open my door and slam it shut. Fuck him, he's such a fucking douche! I fucking hate him. I look at my phone, 'three missed calls:' Francis, Antonio, and _Elizaveta_. I dial her number; its etched into my brain. It rings and rings and rings and rings, and I try to piece together a voice-mail message. I've got nothing.

"Hello?" She answers. It's sad; just hearing her voice makes me smile.

"Guten nacht." I greet. I wish she were next to me.

"Gil," she addresses solemnly.

"Ja," I answer, preparing for disappointment.

"I think we should stop."

"Why? You can't stand him anyway." I let my temper boil.

"Well, I spent more time with him today, and I think that he and I are better for each other."

"That's great for you." My eyes burn.

"And we shouldn't talk anymore."

"Why? Am I _that_ terrible?"

"No, it's just."

"You love him, so what am I? What have I always been to you?"

"It's nothing personal. It's just you're the one that every girl has her fun with, and he's the one that every girl marries."

"Ja, I dropped everything I was doing for you because I just wanted to have '_fun_.'"

"Gil."

"Nein, I don't have to listen to this bullshit!"

I end the call and throw my phone across the room. So, I'm the one that _everyone _has their fun with, huh? I walk out the door and knock on Bruder's door. Screw relation and incestuous wrongs. He opens the door; his blue eyes hazed. I kiss him; if I'm known for this, I'll flaunt it till the end of my damn days. I shove him on the bed. How could she say that about me? I gave her everything, and she dropped me like I was on fire. _"I love you." _Bullshit, love is a fucking whore. I tear at his shirt; damn bastard put it back on. Frustration blinding me, or is that sadness? Nein, I'm sick of this. I can hear his raspy breathing. His stomach is a sick purple, but there isn't any swelling. I sigh a sigh of relief; that's one weight off my shoulders. I loom over him and kiss him; his hands are in my hair. The smell of beer is in my nose; what was he thinking?

"Hey, don't be so impatient." He slurs as his mouth pulls into a goofy smile.

"Shut up." I unbuckle his belt and bite at his neck. I pull off my shirt. Damn, that Italian chick is lucky; no lie, he's pretty hot and doesn't look like so much of a hard ass with his hair in his face. He almost looks _cute._ Fuck, I can feel my pants getting tight. I slip off his jeans and choke back a laugh. Luckily that anti-Nazi guy didn't see Bruder's boxers; he's always wearing something to do with Germany. I swear that gives him a hard on. "___Kleider machen Leute.__" _I whisper into his ear, and he shudders. Ke-se-se-se, he does get hard for Germany. Just that stupid proverb got him going. A blush is burning on his cheeks. He pulls me down by my neck for another kiss, and damn him, he knows how to kiss. It's like when he's drunk he's a different person. I press my tongue to his lips, and he casually opens his mouth. I can taste the Yuengling Lager on his tongue. His hands are wandering to the rim of my jeans on the elastic of my boxers. I slip my hand into his boxers; he gasps when my hand makes contact. I catch his lips as I run my hand up and down his growing erection. His eyes are closed, face flushed, such a virgin. His groans in disappointment when I pull away and pull down his boxers. I'll be honest; I was doubting if I was related to this hard ass. However to my surprise, we are very alike in areas that most don't see. I blow on it lightly, and it twitches while Bruder shudders. Pity, he won't remember anything tomorrow. I consider the ways to approach this; oh, who am I kidding? The best way to blow someone is just to take it in your mouth. All other ways are cheap ways of saying I'm going to tease the pleasure out of you. I slide my head up and down, tongue caressing his length the whole time. Each time, I gradually suck in more of him, and not long after I've started, I can hear his heavy breathing and feel the little twitches here and there. When it hits the back of my throat, he moans and pushes forward. I can't help but smirk. He's gonna kill me tomorrow or beg for round two. His hands are in my hair, and he's probably glad that we're the only ones living in this house, so cute.

"If I had known earlier that you were so virile after a few Yuenglings, damn, I'd drink with you all the time." I tease. He whines at the loss of my mouth around him. His foggy eyes look at mine. I feel bad for you tomorrow; this is probably going to hurt. I'll be amazed if it doesn't. I slide down my jeans and boxers down and treat myself to some well earned attention. He pulls me in for a kiss. He should show his aggression this way all the time. I line myself up; having no patience for anymore foreplay, I just did it. Ja, he can't be Mr. V-Card anymore. When I pushed into him, he whimpered, and I felt kinda bad. However, he didn't seem to mind after a while; in fact, I'm pretty sure he loved it. My only issue is every time I fuck someone they always have to scratch up my back; he's no different. I'll let it go though. His moans are the most enjoyable things, and I can't quite figure out why. Fuck, he is tight though, but then again by comparison, the last person I did was Francis, in a drunken slump with Elizaveta. My stomach is getting so tense, and I'm pretty sure he can't last any longer either. I kiss his neck lightly, before I finish my part in all of this. He moans, and his cum is all over the sheets. I don't feel bad about that; it's his bed. His hands are still on my back, and I guess he's in a state of drunken after sex glow, which must be crazy. I've probably experienced that a lot and don't remember because shit, who remembers anything they did when they were shit-faced? "Well, um, guten nacht." I'm not one for cuddling or whatever you do after sex.

"Ja," he yawns. "Guten nacht." His eyes close, and he's already in Sandman Land. These Yuenglings are just magical aren't they? I want to go to sleep that easy, but now, I get to face my problems. Elizaveta won't ever come back. I sigh, running a hand through my hair. Whatever.

– –

I open my eyes to bird outside my window. I watch them hop about and socialize with one another. Such a simple life. I hear a loud groan, then 'Scheiße', then the sound of bed springs. I walk over to his bedroom door. I knock lightly.

"Don't pound on my door." He whines. Well, I guess that's what he said, because to me it sounded like "Dmffff powfffd on mfff door."

"I was only tapping." I assure.

"What's the number?" He asks face in a pillow.

"Vas?"

"Well, seeing as I want the sunlight to shut the fuck up, I drank more than twenty lagers. Ja?" He puts the pillow over his head.

"Try thirty." I sit on the corner of the bed.

"Ha-ha–ow..." He holds his head.

"Cheer up, fifty sent you to the ER." I point out.

"Oh, the days of being in a fraternity." He laughs painfully.

"–of nerds." I finish.

"Whatever."

"And you could always drink more than they could which is how you got into the awesome people's fraternities. People made bets with you that they could drink more than you, and you'd take them up on it to gain pocket money. It was a game to you, and you say I'm bad." I can still picture his face as I pounded into him last night. Aw~, so cute.

"I never lost." He adds.

"You didn't; you just, you know, almost died." Always fun to pull out the worst in him.

"I wasn't gonna die." I present to you the most irritating person alive, Ludwig Weillschmidt when hungover as shit. "You're just pissed because I am capable of out-drinking you."

"Nein, I don't get drunk, you dumbass." I slap him lightly.

"Damn, my stomach hurts, and I'm sore." He groans.

"I wonder why."

**A/N:** The question rests with Gilbert and if he'll ever reveal that night, and next chapter it's back to Ludwig's point of view. I just found it impossible to describe the situation with Ludwig if he's drunk. I apologize for my lack of skill with writing certain kinds of scenes. Please Review.

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	8. Eight

**Eight.**

My eyes blink open, and the sunlight screams in my face. I groan and roll over. I try to count how many beers I must have drank. Well, one, two, three, four, five, ten, fifteen, twenty. Ja, twenty. I pull my comforter over my head and then, my pillow, too. Ha, the sunlight can't be heard through this; I feel like Magneto with his metal helmet. The sun is Professor X. Gott, I'm a nerd. I smell like a brewery, and this is why you don't drink. Great, now I'm lecturing myself. This claustrophobic hide-out from the sun is making me into a nutcase in just under five minutes. I hear what sounds like a hammer being slammed into my door.

"Don't pound on my door!" I yell, but I imagine it sounded more like 'Dmffff powfffd on mfff door.'

"I was only tapping." He points out. It's still loud, douche.

"What's the number?" I refuse to leave my sanctuary of silent darkness.

"Vas?" Is he teasing me or just an idiot?

"Well, seeing as I want the sunlight to shut the fuck up, I drank more than twenty lagers. Ja?" I feel his weight on the corner of my bed; the shift in weight feels somewhat nostalgic. Don't know why.

"Try thirty." Fuck. So much for me never going on a drinking binge again.

"Ha-ha-ow..." The sound of laughing is too loud for my hungover senses in my ears.

"Cheer up, fifty sent you to the ER." Great, we're going to talk about ___this _again.

"Oh, the days of being in a fraternity." I laugh reminiscing on the shit I did to get into those stupid groups. My ears feel like they're about to bleed from volume and hangover overload.

"–of nerds." He adds trying to push in his own jokes.

"Whatever." So some of the people in Phi Delta Theta were a bit nerdy...

"And you could always drink more than they could which is how you got into the awesome people's fraternities. People made bets with you that they could drink more than you, and you'd take them up on it to gain pocket money. It was a game to you, and you say I'm bad." That's 'cause you are stupid.

"I never lost." I wouldn't lose five hundred dollars on a bet that I couldn't drink more than Scott or John or whoever because everyone thought I ___would__._

"You didn't; you just, you know, almost___died_."___Again_ with the 'you could have died.'

"I wasn't gonna die." How pathetic is it if one dies from drinking? Embarrassing, ja? "You're just pissed because I am capable of out-drinking you."

"Nein, I don't get drunk, you dumbass." He smacks my stomach, lightly, but it still hurts because of that jackass yesterday.

"Damn, my stomach hurts, and I'm sore." I groan. Well, he___did_ just hit me in the stomach.

"I wonder why." He says playfully.

"'Cause that jackass yesterday, duh." I point out.

"Right, him." He gets up. "So, I'm going out with Antonio and Francis. I already did you a favor and put up a sign that the store's closed for the day. I have heavy-duty aspirin in my bathroom in the cabinet behind the mirror. Drink fruit juice." I can hear him walk away. Fruit juice, that always made me laugh in college; fruit juice has a high concentration of fructose which burns alcohol faster. I just never thought such a thing would actually work. I stumbled upon it when my roommate had nothing but grape juice left because he never went to the store. I hear the door slam shut, and Bruder is gone. I come out from my fortress of fabric and synthetic cotton filling to find that he closed the blinds for me. Thanks, now, you just have to not be an ass all the time. I walk out of my room and down the hall. His room has a bathroom connected to it. I walk through the room, staring at the bathroom. I don't want to see what he leaves lying around in his room. I open the medicine cabinet in his bathroom. It has a box of condoms (no surprise), allergy medications (all unopened?), aspirin, but something catches my eye, a little orange bottle with a white label and white childproof cap. I pull out the bottle and read the label: 'Gilbert Weillschmidt,' 'take two in mornings and at night with food or milk,' 'Lithium.' I put it back but spot another orange bottle it too reads 'Gilbert Weillschmidt.' 'Take six milligrams in the mornings and nights with food or water' followed by 'Paliperidone.' I take the aspirin and try to put everything back in the cabinet where I found it, especially the two bottles. I grab my laptop with the aspirin in hand and walk to the kitchen. I pour a glass of orange juice and turn on my computer. Out of my curiosity, I open Google and type in 'lithium medication purposes,' and in response, I get a bunch of bipolar disorder pages and ads. I type in the same for paliperidone, but I can't find the will to hit enter. Everyone knows that lithium is for bipolar disorder, but something like paliperidone sound like they're better left a mystery. I drink my orange juice. How could I never recognize? My phone rings, and I jump a bit. My head still hurts.

"Guten tag." I answer.

"You find the aspirin?" Bruder asks.

"Ja," as well as your medications.

"Great!"

"Bruder," I can feel a sick churning in my stomach.

"Ja?"

"Nothing." I shouldn't.

"Servus."

"Auf Wiederse–" I'm cut off by the dial tone. I rub my temples. Nein, this can't be Bruder's medication, but it says... I cross my arms on the table and rest my head on them. Why did I have to get wasted yesterday? Now my stomach and my head hurt, and guilt is eating my conscience raw. It's eating away because he won't ever tell me, but I know. I can't ever talk to him about it; I just get to_ know_ about it. ___"Follow his quirks and find out what's really going on in that boy's head."_ I don't want to know any more. With psychology, do you really have to be so unaffected by the effects of an illness on anyone? Bruder...

**A/N:** Now, both brothers have secret foreknowledge about the other. Please Review.

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	9. Nine

**Nine.**

I may have skipped out on work today, but I have to go to class. Class, Abnormal Psychology, how fitting. I take a shower to clear my head and put on a shirt, pants, and socks. I walk downstairs and fill my thermos with orange juice. My head is still pounding, and I don't want to drive. I slip on shoes and grab my messenger bag, then out to the garage. I pull out of the driveway left, then left two lights later, right at the end of the street, right at the fifth light, left at the next light, and left at the QT gas station. I pull into the parking lot of the campus and park on the furthest part of the parking lot away from the school. I sling my messenger bag over my shoulder and pick up my thermos. The time is 7:15, fashionably early. Dr. Huggins isn't one for late people. 'Early is on time, and on time is late.' She emphasized the first day of her class. I stroll through the classroom doors at 7:24, perfect. I take my seat in the back of the room, always the outsider, at least preferably. I set up my laptop, take my seat, and sip my orange juice.

Dr. Huggins walks into her class at 7:29, closing the door behind her and locking it. She greets all of us and goes straight into her lecture. She redefines abnormal psychology and what makes it so _abnormal_. Her first topic is disorders. The first disorder: Bipolar Disorder. I shouldn't be surprised; it's the most commonly known abnormality in psychology.

"Bipolar disorder, as everyone knows, is the disorder that causes random mood swings from emotional highs labeled 'manias' to depressions. These transitions can be quick, and the moods can last for hours to months. It affects men and women equally and usually starts between ages 15 - 25. The exact cause is unknown, but it occurs more often in relatives of people with bipolar disorder. There are three types of bipolar disorder: bipolar disorder type I patients have had at least one manic episode and periods of major depression. It is also known as 'manic depression.' Bipolar disorder type II patients have never had full mania. Instead they experience periods of high energy levels and impulsiveness that are not as extreme as mania, referred to as hypomania. These periods alternate with episodes of depression, like type I. Cyclothymia involves less severe mood swings. People with this form alternate between hypomania and mild depression. People with bipolar disorder type II or cyclothymia may be wrongly diagnosed as having depression." I type notes in bullet points, but damn, she talks fast. Everyone else seems to be having a harder time than me though. "There is no known cause for this disorder; however, certain things can trigger a manic episode. Things like life changes such as childbirth, medications such as antidepressants or steroids, periods of sleeplessness, and recreational drug use. The manic phase may last from days to months. It can include the following symptoms: being easily distracted, little need for sleep, poor judgment, poor temper control, reckless behavior and lack of self control such as binge eating, drinking, and/or drug us, poor judgment, sex with many partners (promiscuity), and spending sprees. Symptoms also include very elevated moods such as excess activity (hyperactivity), increased energy, racing thoughts, talking a lot, and very high self-esteem (false beliefs about self or abilities); a few other symptoms are being very involved in activities and being very upset (agitated or irritated). Of course, these are only the mania symptoms for a type I patient; type II patients have less intensity in their actions during manic phases. Both types have depression phases which include symptoms like daily low mood or sadness, difficulty concentrating, remembering, or making decisions, fatigue or lack of energy, feeling worthless, hopeless, or guilty, loss of pleasure in activities once enjoyed, loss of self-esteem, thoughts of death and suicide, trouble getting to sleep or sleeping too much, pulling away from friends or activities that were once enjoyed, and eating problems like loss of appetite and weight loss or overeating and weight gain. There is a high risk of suicide with bipolar disorder patients, and they may abuse alcohol or other substances, which can make the symptoms and suicide risk worse. Occasionally, the two phases overlap. Manic and depressive symptoms may occur together or quickly one after the other in what is called a 'mixed state.'" There are so many symptoms for just_ one_ disorder. I'd hate to see attention deficit disorder or schizophrenia. She continues to ramble on and on about treatments, and I hear 'lithium.' I think more about Bruder's behaviors, going down the symptoms checklist. Little have I noticed, he does have several of these symptoms; as for promiscuity, I'm not sure.

– –

I'm not a big fan of Dr. Huggins, so when the time came and class was over, I gladly broke into a speed-walk for the door. Tomorrow's going to be a good day: work, a date with Feliciana, and Dr. Swartz's lecture. I think I'm in love with Wednesdays. When I walk into the house, I find Bruder sleeping on the couch and head upstairs. Today was fairly boring. I slip off my shirt, kick off my shoes, and decide to sleep in my pants. I flop on the bed, face into the pillow. I turn over and stare at my window, but the blinds are closed, which bugs me for some reason. I walk over to the window and open the blinds. The moon is out, and the world seems at peace. It's only 11:00, but I decide to sleep. I have work tomorrow.

– –

Who knew that people were filled with enough hatred that they would do _this_. I stare at the glass door of the bookstore. I can't really explain or figure out how to feel about this. I should be mad, pissed, but I'm just shocked. The other store owners are glaring at me; I have every right to be glaring at _them._ Who the hell thought it was okay to spray-paint a Hakenkreuz on the door along with the typical, you know, 'HAIL HITLER!'? I unlock the door, put my messenger bag behind the desk, lock the door again, and head out to the hardware store. I figure a razor would do well, chipping off the paint. I wonder what the public thinks of me now. I press my thumb and index finger against my eyelids.

"Hello, do you need help finding anything?" The hardware store employee asks, a bit cheerfully.

"Ja, where are the razorblades? Some punks spray-painted my store's door." I don't have time for this.

"That would be aisle fourteen." The man points to his left.

"Thank you." I walk over to aisle fourteen: razors, straight-edges, yardsticks. I look through the aisle and question why you would try to sell razorblades for ten dollars. I check my wallet: a ten, some fives, a plethora of ones. I give in and take the stupid overpriced sharp metal tool. I bring it to the checkout and watch the cashier scan the item.

"That will be ten dollars and forty cents." I hand her the ten and a one.

"Keep the change." I offer as I grab the plastic bag. I get in my car and let out a sigh. I put it into drive and go to the store. It looks uglier than the hole in the wall, and it's the most offensive thing I've encountered ever since I came to New York. I leave the plastic bag in my car, lock it, and unlock the door to the store. I begin to chip away at the paint, and little bits of red and black chipped paint shower my black blazer. I slip out of the blazer and fold it on the counter inside. I return in chipping away the hate crime.

"Who did this?" I hear someone gasp; I know it's Feliciana. She's the only one who doesn't see me as a Nazi.

"I have no idea." I smile meekly.

"Why would someone even consider –?" She looks at me concerned.

"I guess being blonde, having blue eyes, and coming from Germany means I deserve it."

"I'm sorry." She looks at me with those brown eyes.

"It's fine. You can go look at books. Just tap the glass when you're done." I offer.

"Are you sure you don't want help?"

"Ja, I'm fine." She walks into the store, slowly and reluctantly. I continue chipping away the paint. Occasionally, we exchange glances, awkward but somehow comforting. Chipping the paint away still leaves a dirty, scraped look. I walk into the store and find dish soap? I don't know why there's _dish_ soap in a _book_store. Either way, I go to the deli next store and ask for a bucket and sponge. I think the manager of the deli is the only one that doesn't hate me here. He offers to help clean, but I confirm that lending me a bucket and a sponge is more than I could ask. I mix water and dish soap and watch Feliciana leave, no books. That's weird. I return to cleaning the door, and after a few quick circles. I return the bucket and sponge to the deli manager and thank him greatly. When I return to the bookstore, Feliciana is there with can of tea held towards me.

"You deserve it." She smiles.

"Danke," I can feel my body relax.

"You're very kind." She blushes.

"Not really, but I try." I admit.

"I'm lucky." She kisses me. "I have the perfect guy."

"Ha-ha, I'm the lucky one." I hug her close.

"I have to work." She informs almost miserably.

"I do too. See you at five?" I smile.

"I can't wait." I watch her walk out the door. Six more hours. I take a seat behind the counter, set up my laptop, and work on my essay.

**A/N:** And the intolerance rages on. Please Review.

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	10. Ten

**Ten.**

I look at the clock in the bottom corner of my computer screen, 4:00. I check again, 4:15. Again, 4:30. Again, 4:45. Once again can't hurt, 4:50. Fuck, 4:52. Shit, 4:55. 4:58. 4:59. 5:00. Yes! I close my laptop, and put my stuff away. I watch out the glass door for Feliciana, and as I wait, I slowly become nervous. I watch her walk up to the door; she's wearing a red dress that goes to her mid-thigh with a black cardigan. She opens the door and looks straight at the desk, where I'm still sitting on my stool like an idiot. I blush a bit, or a lot.

"You look...amazing!" I compliment. She blushes.

"I'm glad you think so; Lovina said you wouldn't like it." She looks at the ground. "So where are we going?"

"It's fun not to know, ja?" I grab my messenger bag and thermos.

"Are we walking?" She grabs my hand.

"Nein, I have a car." We walk towards my car with hands intertwined. I open the door for her and close it when she is in the passenger seat. I walk around the car and get in the driver's seat after putting my messenger bag in the trunk.

"So where to?" She asks while clicking her seat-belt.

"It's a surprise." I start the car and try to visualize the directions to the restaurant.

"Tell me about yourself."

"What is there to know? I work at a bookstore, attend college every night, and have an awkward Bruder."

"Where did you grow up?"

"Berlin. You?"

"Florence. When did you come to America?"

"Two years ago. I wanted to finish up my first two years of college over there. My family came here about five years ago. When did you come here?"

"When I was five. Where do your parents live now?"

"Somewhere in Georgia."

"That's far away."

"It's fine; they left because of Bruder's attitude, mostly."

"I'm sorry."

"What for? It's not your fault. Ha-ha." I turn onto Broadway, eyes scanning for the restaurant.

"Broadway? Dinner and a show?" She inquires.

"Nein, just dinner. I didn't know if you were a Broadway person ha-ha." Stop laughing, stupid.

"I've never been to a Broadway show." She admits.

"Neither have I..." I pull past the restaurant to find a parking spot. Luck is in my favor today. I park the car and get out to open the passenger side door. I offer her a hand when getting out of the car. After I close her door and lock the car, I guide her to the restaurant. She looks at me in disbelief.

"Carmine's?" I can't tell if this is good or bad surprise.

"Ja." I smile nervously.

"I haven't been here in years!" She hugs me.

"I've never been here." We walk through the door, and it's dimly lit and kind of gives me a headache. She's happy though, and I want her to be happy. We talk and order food: manicotti for her, chicken parmigiana for me. She's an interesting person, more so than I am. I think I understand why Bruder would be so crazy about Elizaveta. Some people just make you feel great. To my disappointment our time is almost up. Dinner is over and done with, and the dessert is slowly disappearing as well. The bill is set in front of my face. Ninety dollars. Well, I never spend money, so this is no big deal. Besides, I enjoyed myself, so why not?

– –

I drop Feliciana off at her house. Well, I was going to, but I ended up walking her to her door and going into her house, where I was once again harassed by Lovina about wearing a tie and a button up shirt with a blazer. I would _love_ to argue, but I don't have the time. Lovina also seems caught up in Antonio which is awkward... I kiss Feliciana goodbye and get a shoe thrown at my head. Thankfully it misses, as I walk out the door. I sit in my car; it's 7:15. I can't seem to make it on time to Dr. Swartz's lectures lately. I pull into the parking lot at 7:25. I get to class at 7:30. That's not as bad I thought it would be.

"Hello class." Dr. Swartz greets as he walks in. "On Monday we discussed the big five, today we're going over Maslow's hierarchy of needs, so it begins with Abraham Maslow, a psychologist who introduced the hierarchy in 1943 in a paper titled 'A Theory of Human Motivation.' This hierarchy suggests that people are motivated to fulfill basic needs before moving on to other, more advanced needs. This hierarchy is most often displayed as a pyramid. The lowest levels of the pyramid are made up of the most basic needs, while the more complex needs are located at the top of the pyramid. Needs at the bottom of the pyramid are basic physical requirements including the need for food, water, sleep, and warmth. Once these lower-level needs have been met, people can move on to the next level of needs, which are for safety and security. As people progress up the pyramid, needs become increasingly psychological and social. Soon, the need for love, friendship, and intimacy become important. Further up the pyramid, the need for personal esteem and feelings of accomplishment take priority. Maslow emphasized the importance of self-actualization, which is a process of growing and developing as a person in order to achieve individual potential." I can feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. It's probably a telemarketer. "Maslow believed that these needs are similar to instincts and play a major role in motivating behavior. Physiological, security, social, and esteem needs are deficiency needs (also known as '_D-needs_'), meaning that these needs arise due to deprivation. Satisfying these lower-level needs is important in order to avoid unpleasant feelings or consequences. Maslow termed the highest-level of the pyramid as growth needs (also known as _being needs _or '_B-needs_'). Growth needs do not stem from a lack of something, but rather from a desire to grow as a person." My phone is still pulsing for attention; I check it, 'Gilbert Weillschmidt.' I pick up the phone.

"What is it? I'm in class, you know!" I hiss into the phone.

"Come home and pack. We have to go to Georgia tomorrow." He demands.

"Nein, why the hell would I do that? I'm in _class_."

"That bitch wants us to."

"Why?"

"You should just come home."

"Nein, what is it?"

"Vati's dead." I drop the phone, press my thumb and index finger to my temple, and pick the phone off the floor slowly. "Ja, so come home and get packing."

I don't know what came over me, but one second I'm in class. The next, I'm running to my car with my laptop in hand and messenger bag flailing behind me. I can feel my heartbeat in my head and want to throw up. I can't get the will to start the car. I'm furious, and I don't know why. I'm upset, but that's to be expected. I take a deep breath and turn the key. My hands and feet operate the car and guide me home, but my head is worthless. It's filled with a storm of confusion and frustration but not sadness. I pull into the garage and walk into the house. Bruder was waiting. I grab his collar.

"It's not true." I don't want it to be.

"Ja, it is." His eyes are wells of new found sadness.

"So Georgia?" I ask.

"Ja, sixteen hours down south."

"For how long?"

"She said a week and a half."

"But I have the store and school." I try to reason my way out of this.

"She sent an email to your professors and said to hire another employee. The point is you're not getting out of doing this. We're leaving tomorrow morning." Great, I get to spend at least sixteen hours with you and _only _you.

**A/N:** Sixteen hours of only Gilbert? I'm pretty sure things are going to get complicated soon. Please Review.

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	11. Eleven

**Eleven.**

I start packing; I've never been to Georgia. Best assume it'll be hot though; I guess. I pull up my email and peruse them for the email with a number. I dial 315-949-1858 and wait for an answer. I go back to packing, when I hear a response:

"Ciao." I hear Feliciana.

"Guten Nacht." I reply.

"You _finally_ called." I can hear Lovina in the background 'are you talking to that stupid potato-eating bastard?'

"I did. Ha-ha. So can I ask a favor of you? I'll pay you if you want." I don't like asking favors.

"What is it?"

"I need to go to Georgia for two weeks, at most; could you watch the store?" I ask. "I'll pay you like an employee if you want."

"No, it's fine. Besides, after tonight, I owe you." I let out a sigh of relief.

"Danke, I'll leave the keys in your mailbox?"

"Ok, I'll check it first thing in the morning."

"I have to finish packing..." I would rather talk with her all night.

"I understand. Bye, I'll miss you." She admits.

"Auf Wiedersehen." I hang up reluctantly and begin to fold all the clothes in the suitcase. I finish and zip up the luggage. Bruder knocks on my door quietly. He opens the door anyway.

"When are we leaving?"

"Ten. We'll stop at a hotel for a night, then arrive there around afternoon-ish on Friday."

"Wake me up, okay?" He walks out of the room.

– –

I wake to my alarm at 8:30. I shuffle to the bathroom with a consciousness of twenty percent. After starting the shower, I pull off my shirt and kick off my shoes; I fell asleep with them on? I slide off my pants and boxers and step in to the painfully hot water. I run my hands through my hair, pick up my toothbrush, and idly brush my teeth. The routine kicks in brush your teeth, wash your hair, get out of the shower, shave your face, put on boxers, make coffee, drink coffee, go to next destination. I've never liked shaving in particular; maybe it's because every time I nick my neck. I wipe it off with a tissue and dry off my face. I'm still only fifty percent conscious. I slip on some boxers and stumble downstairs in the dark to the kitchen. While walking, I flip the light switch and narrow my eyes from the sudden adjustment in light. I fill the coffee machine with water, a filter, and ground coffee. I walk upstairs and get dressed in jeans, a Die Prinzen shirt that I didn't even know I had, and a pair of worn out sneakers. Back downstairs, I pour coffee and walk out the door to the garage to 1) drop off the store key at Feliciana's and 2) fill my car with gas. I check the clock 9:00. It should only take twenty minutes.

– –

_"Wake me up, okay?"_ I walk through his door and find him in a pair of boxers splayed across his bed. I shake his shoulder, and he opens his eyes, pulls my face to his, and presses his lips to mine. I pull away.

"Bruder, what the hell are you –?" I shout.

"Something that I think about everyday." He buries his face in between my neck and shoulder. "You smell nice."

"Bruder," I push him away. "We have to go. It's 9:45."

"Oh," disappointment shines red.

"Do you want me to get your bag?"

"Nein, I'll get it." He slips out of bed, pulls on pants, grabs his bag, and heads down to the car.

"Ready when you are." I call from upstairs.

"Let's get on the damn road; I hate your car!" He shouts back.

"Okay," I walk down to the garage.

– –

"So, anything you want to talk about?" I ask staring at the miles of asphalt ahead of us.

"Elizaveta broke up with me." He mutters burying his face in his arm.

"I'm sorry." What else would you say to that?

"–'s fine. Besides, I had a fun rebound fuck."

"I don't know what you say to that."

"It was awesome, ke-se-se-se." He sounds nervous.

"Oh really?"

"Ja."

"Are you sure that you're okay about Elizaveta?"

"I don't know really." I can feel his eyes on me.

"Well, you can talk about it if you want."

"I don't think you want to hear about it."

"Who was the rebound?" Why do I care?

"You know them."

"Ew, you did Francis again? That's gross." My eyes instinctively narrow at the idea.

"Nein!" He slaps my arm playfully.

"Hey! I'm driving! Was it Antonio? Lovina's going to kill you."

"Nein! Antonio is _verrückt_ for Lovina." He runs his hand through his hair.

"That girl next door?"

"Never talked to her in my life, so what do you think?"

"Then who?"

"You'll never guess it." He reclines his chair. "Shut up, I'm going to sleep." Through several quick glances, I watch him close his eyes. I read the signs, searching for I-77 S. It's quiet, and this may be one of the few cherishing moments that we are spending time together and _not _fighting. It's only 12:00.

It's 2:00; driving is getting tiring. Bruder's still sleeping, and I'm actually hungry. I poke him, and an odd sound emits from him. I turn off on some random exit and pull into a random fast food restaurant. Bruder's still asleep, so I poke him again. His eyes crack open, and a frown of disappointment pulls across his face.

"What?" He hisses.

"If you want food, get up." I inform, and he jumps up.

"Finally! Food!" He's like a damn child. He bursts out the door, and I slowly follow him. He holds the door for me, and I wait for him before I walk to the register. The thick smell of grease hangs in the air. Welcome to America! My stomach flips, and I feel nauseous. Bruder orders a milkshake and a frappe. He hands me the sugary coffee imitation; I reluctantly take it. "Das Essen hier ist grob."

"Even though you're speaking Deutsch, being rude is _still _being rude." I lecture him.

"Whatever. How much longer until we stop for the day?" He half whines.

"Six hours." I rub my head.

"Are you tired?"

"Ja." I sigh as we get into the car. My hands rest on the steering wheel; my head rests on my hands.

"Hey, before we get back on the road, can we talk?" He sounds serious; I look at him skeptically.

"Ja, shoot." I allow.

"Remember that rebound I mentioned?" My suspicions are rising.

"Ja, what about it?"

"Remember when you got shit-faced?"

"Ja, I still have the bruise on my stomach to remember it with."

"Well, that was the day that Elizaveta broke up with me..." He looks at the dashboard; his hands are tight around his cup.

"Where is this going...? Did _you sleep with mein freundin_?" How could he?

"Nein... I _did _sleep with her _boyfriend_." He slept with Feliciana's boyfriend? He slept with...me?

"Vas?" How?

"Well, you were shit-faced and coming onto me." He mutters.

"Doesn't mean I wanted _you _to _fuck_ me! Goddamnit, Bruder!" What the hell is wrong with this incestuous thinking weirdo?

"I don't know. I was upset, and I've felt like shit ever since. I just –"

"You just _what_? _What_ makes you think that I wanted to have sex with bruderlein?"

"Ludwig."

"Don't 'Ludwig' me! I'm _not _you! I _don't_ have sex with people I just meet! I _never_ think about sex with _you_!"

"But _I_ think about it." He confesses. "I _know _it's messed up." He holds his head in his hands. "Look, you don't know anything about how I think."

"I think I do. Psychology major and everything." I accidentally correct.

"Have you ever had to hear things that no one else can? Have you ever been depressed no matter how happy you _want_ to be? You may understand what's wrong in my _brain_, but you have _no idea_ what it feels like. I thought about you, all the time, because you _didn't _know. You thought I was normal. Ke-se-se-se, me, normal? You chose to stay with me, even after our Eltern told you to leave with them. I slept around because I thought _maybe_ I could find someone who would take my mind off of you." His voice is shaking; his ego is transparent.

"Bruder."

"Leave me alone." He looks out the passenger side window. I feel myself reaching over to touch his face.

"Gilbert." It wasn't right of me to do that.

"Vas?"

"I may have said I don't think about having sex with you, but sometimes –" I assure. He looks over, and his lips are on mine. Sadly, I can't say that I don't enjoy this. I kiss him back.

"Ludwig."

"Vas?"

"People are staring." I rip away from him and look out the car windows. He deserved a smack for that.

"Ke-se-se-se, you're cute when you're flustered." Too my irritation, a blush burns in my face.

"Shut up." I start the car.

– –

I was going to drive all night, because all Bruder was doing was sleeping. I watch the sign for Huntersville pass when he wakes up. He looks at me with concerned eyes and checks the clock. He sits up and looks around. I watch the road; he taps my shoulder. I ignore it. He does it again. I ignore it. It's 10:30. What could he possibly want this late?

"Pull over. We're staying in Charlotte for the night." He demands.

"Nein," I don't see the point.

"Pull over. It's important. We'll stay in Charlotte." He repeats.

"Why? It's only four more hours." I point out.

"I need food or milk and water, and I just want to sleep in a bed."

"Why?" I reiterate.

"Because I need you to." He belabors.

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because it's a reason."

"Yes, it is."

"Just wait four hours."

"Nein!"

"Then tell me why!"

"Because I'm afraid of _not _taking my stupid medication on time!" I turn onto the exit into Charlotte.

"What medication?"

"_My_ medication." He scans for a place to stop. "And I'm pretty sure you're hungry too."

"What is the medication for?" I already know one.

"You know how Vati was a tiny bit 'crazy' in the head?"

"Ja."

"Well, his stupid genes messed up my brain too." He evades the way of saying that he has disorders.

"Oh," I stop at a place that isn't fast food, Subway.

"Danke," he slowly gets out of the car. I follow him into the restaurant and watch him get food and water. I wait for him to sit down. He comes back with a sub and a bottle of water. I get up and order a turkey sub and water. I watch Bruder open one of the two bottles take out two pills and open the other bottle and take out two smaller pills. He swallows the smaller pills with some water, then eats some of his sub, takes the bigger two pills swallows them with water, and continues eating. I pay for my food and sit across from him. "Four in the morning. Four at night. It's somewhat tiring."

"I'm sorry. We'll find some cheap hotel and stay there till tomorrow morning."

"Okay," he rests his head against the wall.

"Let's go." I offer.

"But you're still eating." He points out.

"I'm not that hungry." I lie.

I guess, it's good to stop at a hotel. I didn't notice how cramped my legs were until I got a chance to lie down on a bed. My back and calves ache, and I just can't wait to fall asleep. My eyes close, and I feel a familiar weight on the other end of the bed. The weight pulls closer to me, and I can feel Bruder's breath on me. I open my eyes, and as expected, he is there, looming over me. I don't know why, but I felt the need to kiss him. My hands grab his neck; my lips meet his. He casually complies. 'This isn't right;' I keep telling myself. I shouldn't like this; I shouldn't want this. My phone rings; I glance at the screen. It's Feliciana.

**A/N:** So, Gilbert wants Ludwig who has Feliciana but _maybe_ wants Gilbert. Please Review.

~FromPrussiaWithLove_._


	12. Twelve, with Gilbert

**Twelve, with Gilbert.**

**A/N:** Thank you for all your reviews; they are all greatly appreciated from such great authors ( :

Right, Feliciana. I watch him pull away to my disappointment, and my anger boils because in the end he'll _always_ choose that ditzy Italian. _"It's just you're the one that every girl has fun with." _I get up and stomp to the bathroom; I can't stop the words that fall out of my mouth: 'fucking tease.' Well, he is; he's just a douche-bag. I can hear him through the door, and maybe, it's not anger. It's jealousy, because Feliciana _doesn't_ have to try to get him.

"Hallo...Is there anything wrong?...What is it?...I miss you, too...Mein Vater, he's – well, he's – he's not...doing so well." Cut your euphemism bullshit! He's dead, and _you_ didn't have to know why. Stupid phone call. _"Gilbert?" I told you not to call me. "It's important; it's your father." What about him? "It seems like he stopped taking his medication a while ago, and he –" So, he did what? "Gilbert, your father is dead." Nein, you're lying. "Gilbert, I live with him. I thought he was fine until I walk home to him with a bullet in his head and a gun in his hand." Why are you calling me? I figure you should be telling Ludwig this; he's the one that would give you the pity you're asking for. _In truth, I hung up because I was scared as hell. I hate medication, but I know what people do while off of it... "Nein, it's not your fault, so how was the store?...Probably because the intolerant 'wannabe Hitler' was gone, ja?...I wouldn't know. I'm in Charlotte right now; we stopped for the night...Ja, I'd like that. Ha-ha, hypothermia sucks." Today, well, that was just pity, wasn't it? "Then you're lucky...Really?...Of course...I love you." Those three words make me want to pull my hair out. Not only are they lies for anyone, but also, they're to _her_. I hear his footsteps approaching the bathroom door and a knock. "I need to get in there"

"Why?" I ask, even though I'm just sitting here, not really doing anything.

"I need to wash my contacts."

"You wear contacts?"

"Ja, ever since I was fifteen, and they've been bugging me for the past three hours." I open the door, put down the toilet lid, sit, and watch him deal with his contacts.

"You worry about the bookstore too much; it's like your child."

"Well, it got covered in graffiti yesterday, so yes, I do worry about it."

"Graffiti of what?" I inquire.

"A Hakenkreuz and 'Hail Hitler.'" He goes into the hotel room to get his glasses.

"Fucking idiots," I slip my shirt off; I'm ready to go to bed.

"When did you get _that_?" He asks looking at the reflection of my back in the mirror.

"Vas?" I turn around.

"The tattoo on your shoulder."

"Ke-se-se-se, when I was eighteen, the girl I was dating worked at a tattoo place, so I thought 'what the hell it's free!' Iron crosses are cool, but it may look wrong if I were to wear one around my neck all the time. In the end, the iron cross is there to remind me that home is always Deutschland." Of course, I still wore an iron cross around my neck until we came to America where all iron crosses are apparently Nazi fashion. Nein, they didn't want to listen to the _actual_ German about German history. If I wanted to support Hitler; I'd do it out in the open. Fuck whatever anyone else thinks.

"That's very inspirational, which is odd coming from you..." I watch him splash his face with water and jump up from the toilet; my arms just wanted to hold someone, something, close. Besides, hugs aren't incest. I rest my head against his back; why the hell did _he_ get to be taller?

"You still smell nice." I state.

"Bruder," he sighs as he straightens his composure.

"I know; you have Feliciana." I prefer to be behind him, so he can't see my face, my disappointment, my hurt.

"Then why do you –"

"I don't know; I just do." Nein, because I think you can do better than Antonio's secondary booty call.

"Well, I'm going to bed." He yanks my arms away from him.

"It's only eleven." I point out.

"Doesn't matter, I'm tired." He throws his shirt over onto his bag.

"That Die Prinzen shirt is mine, by the way." I was looking for that the other day.

"I was wondering where it came from." He drops on the bed. "It's too hot here."

"Ja," I walk into the room, flip the light off in the bathroom, and walk towards his bed. He watches me as I walk over to the air-conditioner. I can feel his eyes on me; I will admit that I like it. "Like what you see?"

"I like the tattoo." He admits sheepishly.

"I do too." I agree.

"So, um, what was it like? When I was drunk, 'cause I don't remember." I can hear his blush. He's stuttering more than I thought humanly possible.

"It was good, if that's what you're asking about." I sit at the foot of the bed. "Would you like to know what it felt like, or are you just lying because you want to do it?"

"I don't know." He pulls the comforter of the bed over his face. I crawl onto the bed towards him; holding myself over him, I pull away the comforter. His face is red, and his eyes are squeezed shut. I kiss his forehead.

"I'll take that as 'ja.'" I kiss his lips, pressing my forehead to his. His eye color blends in with the moonlight.

"Who knew you were for romance?" He smiles

"Nein, this isn't romance." I pull away more of the comforter.

"I have a question." I kiss his jaw to his neck.

"What is it?" I coo into his ear, and he shivers.

"Was I, um," his face is red. "Top or bottom?"

"Ke-se-se-se, what do you _think_?" I smirk, as he kisses me. I bite his lip, and he moans. He sits up, against my attempts to hold him down. Damn sober Bruder.

"I _should _report you as a sex offender, taking advantage of your 'helplessly drunk' Bruder." He whispers in my ear.

"Oh no, we can't have that can we?" I continue to flirt; I've never been so focused on flirting. It's weird.

"So what will you do to keep me from telling?" His lust is laced in his words. Oh, if only his girlfriend could see him now, ke-se-se-se.

"Well, we're already in a shady hotel, so let's do what everyone does in these kinds of places. Let's have a secret affair." I bite his neck.

"Ha-ha, I have a feeling you made me bottom, so to keep me from telling – you get the point." His smirk is wide, and I've never seen this side of him.

"Oh no, that's terrible!" I reply sarcastically as he rolls me onto my back; his lips are still soft. I kiss him; he complies. It's better than before though, probably because he's _sober_. His phone rings, which pisses me off beyond all reason. "Don't pick it up."

"Pick up what? I don't hear anything." I panic a bit. He _didn't_ hear it, but I _did_. I think about what I've taken today: two lithium in morning and night, check, and two paliperidone morning and night, questionable. "I was kidding. I won't pick it up though."

"You're a fucking douche-bag." I hiss. His hand rests on my chest, and it radiates with warmth. Why on earth did Gott make us Brüder? I guess Gott was pitying me; knowing if I weren't made to be next to him, I probably wouldn't be.

"Of course, I'm ihr Bruder." His lips are on my collarbone.

"If you're going to go through with this, let me blow you." I offer, looking straight into his eyes. He cringes a bit; this _is _a pity fuck after all. What _was_ I thinking? He just got off the phone with his freundin! I shove him off me and drop in the other bed. "Shut up, go to sleep." I got my hopes up too... I close my eyes, well, more like squeeze them shut with disappointment.

I open my eyes to a warm feeling of light from the sun coming through the window. I rub my eyes, and Bruder is walking out of the bathroom in jeans, a Revolverheld shirt, and sneakers. His glasses are put away somewhere. I slowly sit up, ashamed. I would rather _not_ make eye contact. I slide out of the bed, rummage through my bag, and slip on a Captain America shirt, a _gift_ and a shitty one at that. About my pants, not worth the change; besides, all I'm doing is sitting in a car anyway. I see a glass of water and a plate of breakfast on the desk next to the out-of-date tv.

"They had free breakfast. I got you some stuff." He informs over his shoulder. It's like nothing happened. I sigh, pull out my medication, and sit in front of the food.

"Danke," I fake gratitude, take my medication, trash the rest of the shit called 'breakfast', and wait by the car with my stuff. It's 10:00, I think. If he wants to get there in the afternoon, we should leave soon. I watch him walk out of the front door, his bag in hand. He unlocks the car, and I get situated to fall asleep. I don't want to talk; I've _already_ embarrassed myself. His smell enters the car before he does; I want to hit him in the face. Before I know it, we're back on the highway, charging towards Georgia at sixty miles-per-hour. I close my eyes, until I fall asleep.

– –

I wake up to the suburbs, neighborhoods, local shops, and local schools. Trees are everywhere; it's a change. I prefer concrete and buildings. I read the signs: Woodstock, Marietta, Roswell. The heat is looming over the street, and I'm sweating just looking at it. I like New York where sunblock, even for me, is optional. I peek at Bruder; he looks tired, restless. I watch him at a stop light, I presume, as he rubs his eyelids and curses under his breath. The hotel probably had shitty coffee, probably decaf only. His hair is still in his face, and he looks very slovenly put together. That will probably change when we get to that bitch's house. I look out the window: brick house, white house, gray house, pink-ish house, brick house, gray house, and trees, lots and lots of trees. I don't like neighborhoods. Pretentious people living around other pretentious people in their pretentious houses, and all are trying to be more pretentious than the ones to their left and right. We stop at a brick house; of course, _she_'d pick a _brick_ house. I frown at the idea of talking with her, breathing the same air, existing around her. Like I thought, Bruder is fixing his hair and flattening out the creases in his clothes from four hours of constant sitting. He opens his door, which I guess is the signal that I should open mine. I open it, and he's holding my bag. It's way too hot here to be wearing pants, a shirt, or more than boxers. I mindlessly follow him, like a pig to the slaughterhouse. Ja, that's a _perfect_ analogy. The door opens.

"Ludwig!" _She_ hugs him close, as I just idly stare.

"Mutti," he smiles in her embrace.

"And Gilbert," 'my dearest shitty last minute add-on' even though I was _first_.

"Ja." I just stare at her, and she stares back. _"Just go see the damn psychiatrist! Why are you _so_ persistent on avoiding it?" I don't need it; I'm _not_ crazy._ _"Yes, you _are_, Gilbert. You can't just will away all of the voices that you keep hearing or the fact that you're extremely volatile! Think about what this is doing to your brother!" You mean 'think about what your yelling' is doing to bruderlein. "Would you just see a goddamn psychiatrist?"_ I force the words out of my mouth. "It's nice to see you."

"Same to you, _sweetheart_." We follow her into the house; the nostalgia is suffocating. All the same furniture, all the same room layouts, same type of floor, I don't want to be here. It's empty, because the person that I'd always trust in is gone now, so I no longer have any reason to see _her_ face. I feel nauseous.

"Where's the bathroom?" I ask, sweat beading on my forehead.

"You'll find it; it's just like our old house in Germany." She ignores my question. I wander about the halls, opening every door. When I find the bathroom, I fling open the door and drop in front of the toilet. I never liked getting hungover because dry heaving sucks. I hang over the toilet bowl, stupid hotel breakfast over-processed shit, and my tease of a Bruder, and my cunt of a Mutti. I run my hand through my hair; I fear that this may be the most comfortable I'll ever feel in this house without Vati, with my cheek pressed against a toilet lid in a silent bathroom far away from _her._

**A/N:** They were growing close, and yet, Ludwig and Gilbert drift apart again. Please Review.

~FromPrussiaWithLove_._


	13. Thirteen

**Thirteen.**

"It must be the hotel breakfast; you never know what they put in that stuff." I try to reason with Mutti; maybe, Bruder was faking it though. It wouldn't be surprising if he was.

"Ludwig," she looks up at my face.

"Ja," I respond.

"There's something you need to know." She walks towards the kitchen, and I follow. She implies for me to sit at the table while she walks over to the kitchen to make what I believe will be tea. "It's about your brother and me."

"What about Bruder?" Last night was unexpected, but I can't let him do these kinds of things. I'm with Feliciana, and he's bruderlein.

"See your father was married to someone before me. He loved her." I can hear the tiny little statements Mutti whispers under her breath. 'Even if she was a tramp.' "He married her when they got out of high school, such young people." 'Such a dumb mistake.' I've never heard her so... crude. "Of course, they only got married because she was expecting." 'Dumb slut.' My mind already pieced together this twisted puzzle of hatred. "And then there was Gilbert, showered in his mother's love. A _happy_ little family." 'I still don't see what he saw in her.' I watch her make the tea. "Then tragedy slammed into your father and brother's lives with a car accident." 'Good riddance.' My hands clench in fists. "Your brother was seven, when your father and I got married. He never learned to let go." Her voice is laced with malevolence. "Then, you were born, and your father and brother seemed to be lifted from their hardship. Of course, your brother," 'ungrateful son of a bitch,' "went on pulling my strings, but your father always stood up for him. He was always a problem, but you were always the good one."

"Bruder, 'the good one,' you just can't over the fact that Vati loved a woman named Leoni." Bruder hisses from the doorway.

"Your mother was not a _woman_, but a tramp. I bet you're not even Alaric's son!" Bruder wants to hit something, and I can tell he's considering the wall. "There's no resemblance of your mother or Alaric in you, so you are at a loss."

"I came here to mourn Vati, not deal with your bullshit. Besides, he wanted to be cremated, and his ashes scattered, in Deutschland, with his _wife_, Leoni." I can't tell if he's sad or mad or both; he looks paler...then usual, clammy even.

"Leoni Schafer-Weillschmidt, look at the pain she's caused you, Gilbert. She was out of control. Alaric may have been bipolar and schizophrenic, but compared to her, he was normal. Her manias were horrible, and she'd even leave for days and come home smelling of other men. Alaric was disgusted by her. Blame her for your hardships; your genetics were pieced together with her extremities. No wonder you ended up so me–"

"STOP IT ALREADY!" I find myself yelling; it's sickening. "Vati loved her. He carried around a picture of her in his wallet. He told me it was an old girlfriend. I never knew that she was his wife, but he used to tell stories about her when I helped him around the bookstore. 'No matter how crazy she could get; I was not one to judge. She forgave me for embarrassing her in public, and I forgave her for her uncontrolled mania. In the end, I loved her, and she was perfect for me.' Vati would _never_ judge someone like her, because it would be _complete_ hypocrisy! I cannot believe that _you_, of all people Mutti, would have a problem with someone who _helped_ Vati." A silence sweeps over the room, and I decide to retire to the guest room. I hear the door open behind me, fearing Mutti's anger.

"Danke," Bruder's arms arm around me, a hug?

"I made it up." I can't lie. "He never talked about Leoni, but he did have her picture."

"He told me. 'Leoni Schafer grew up with him. Her manias were worse because they went untreated and abused.' He worked hard and got her medication, and she was better but not healthy. When they turned sixteen, she got kicked out of her house, and he took her in. His parents were lenient and wanted him to be happy. They fell in love; she told him that he was the only one that she could trust. They got married a year later." So from the very beginning he was sentenced to bipolar disorder. Here he is mourning both his parents, and I'm analyzing him like a pop quiz. I disgust myself. "Leoni Schafer-Weillschmidt loved Alaric more than anything; she never left for days."

"Shhh," I coo into his ear. His eyes are on mine.

"We're not even completely related, so why do you –?" In the end, I always end up at the fork in the road, and whenever I begin to choose one, I always walk right back to the fork in the road and go the other way. I kiss him, even though I know that I'll walk away later on. He kisses back and locks the door.

"Isn't it better if we're not completely related?" I smile as he pulls me onto the bed. He guides my head to his; ruby eyes cut into sapphire. I kiss him because I want to, not because I feel bad.

"Ich liebe dich, bruderlein." He whispers so quietly; I'm questioning whether I heard it. I slide off his shirt, and a blush graces his face. His eyes are slightly red around the rims, and I kiss his tear stained cheek. His hands are on my stomach, and I hope this isn't a sick, lecherous daydream. "How is it, that you don't work out, and you still don't have flab?" He asks, completely serious.

"Ha-ha, because I eat healthy." I slip off my shirt and kiss his lips, his jaw, his neck.

"You're also decently tan for a shut in." He points out.

"Do you want to do it or criticize me?" He pulls me in for another kiss, as his hand fights with my belt buckle. I lend a hand, and within a few seconds, my belt is undone. His hand unbuttons and unzips my jeans in a swift movement. Whereas, his hand would like to continue its quest; I don't think it's fair that I lose my pants first. I break away from him, and he whines in disappointment. My hands unbuckle his pants, unbutton his jeans, and unzip them as well. A gasp emits from his mouth as I slide down his jeans and boxers.

"I don't want a blow job from an inexperienced virgin." He informs sarcastically. He rolls off the bed. "Besides, I think you would rather know what your drunken ass missed out on remembering."

"What do you mean?" A blush paints my face red; I know _exactly_ what he means. He's on his knees at the edge of the bed, beckoning me to come over. I comply, and he slides my jeans off.

"Aw, no Germany boxers?" He sighs as he pulls them down with his teeth.

"Nein," I reply, but my mind wanders with the feeling of his mouth. My hand covers my mouth, muffling my noises. If we were to get caught... His eyes are looking at me, gauging my reaction, and I can feel his mouth turn into a smirk around me. My eyes don't know where to look, because staring at Bruder is awkward, so they just shut themselves. Four of my senses lend their attention to one sense, touch. My stomach is welling with some unknown feeling, and my breathing is getting heavier with every second. Then, the most disappointing, almost painful thing happens; he stops.

"Not yet," he teases. I groan; he kisses me and falls onto the bed next to me. I turn around and kiss him; his hands grasp at my hair. This is the strangest thing, but I think Bruder looks..._beautiful_. His porcelain skin only lightly accented with a dash of pink here and there. His hands are pressed against my back, and his eyes look like they're about to cry. He levels his mouth with my ear. "What are you waiting for? _Fuck me_."

"Ah, but isn't there stuff that I have to –?" I can feel my face getting hot.

"Nein, just shut up." He groans.

"Oh, ok." I blush; he kisses me. I can feel him gasp as I push into him. His hand rests on my forearm. When I first thought about my first time, I would have never pictured this or imagined that it would feel so _amazing. _

"_Move_." I do as told. His eyes are narrowed to slits that stare off at the ceiling. I focus on what I'm doing, keep pace, try not to ruin it with words. His lips catch mine; his tongue dances with mine. I guess I can see why people get addicted to sex. I've never felt anything like it, ever. His hand is over his mouth, and muffled moans drift into my ears. All of this is overwhelming, and I can't believe I didn't remember any of this from the first time. My stomach is swelling with that feeling from before. He buries his face in my forearm, and only seconds later, I feel his body clamp down on me and let out a moan, that hopefully wasn't loud. He places a chaste kiss on my cheek. "Ich liebe dich, Bruder."

"Ja?" I pull out of him and wrap him in my arms; his head rests against them. I rest my chin on his head. We sit for a few minutes, and then, my phone rings. I ignore it. It rings again. I almost get it, but when I consider getting up, it stops. It rings once more, and I give in and pick it up. "Hallo?"

"Ciao~!" I don't know what to say.

"Feliciana," I just walked back to the fork in the road and once again, took the other road. I hear the door slam. Okay, I deserve that.

"What are you doing?" Her voice is so happy, oblivious to what I have just done.

"Getting used to Georgia." I can hear the bathroom door being shut and Bruder throwing up. I'm the worst.

"Is it nice down there?"

"Nein, it's too hot, ha-ha." I bury my face in my hands; how did this happen?

"Did you go swimming yet?"

"Nein, I," just fucked bruderlein, "just got here a little while ago. Today's a relaxing day."

"I'm glad that you're getting a break. You always seem so busy."

"The trick is to _seem_ busy." I joke.

"Is that so?"

"Ja, works every time."

"Says the one who is his own boss."

"Well, ja."

"You don't count as a regular working force American."

"Nein, I don't 'cause I'm from Deutschland."

"Touche. Hey, I have to go. I love you."

"Ja, I love you, too." I hear the dial tone and hang up. Wondering where Bruder went, I walk around the house and find him on the couch, drinking a beer. "Is it as good as your lagers?"

"What's it to you? You can't drink anyway." He hisses.

"And we're back to _this_." I sigh.

"_We're_ only back to this because _you_ keep picking up the goddamn phone." He finishes the beer and gets another one.

"It was my girlfriend."

"_That's _the thing. You just do whatever, and I won't care because you _love_ her." Choose a road and stick to it. I'm at the fork in the roads again...

**A/N:** So, Ludwig's mother is a spiteful person...

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	14. Fourteen

**Fourteen.**

I wake up, check my phone: July 1st, Sunday. I slip out of bed; today's the day that we all feel like shit. I open the closet, pull out a hanger that holds a black blazer, a black shirt, a pair of black pants, and a white tie. Closing the door behind me, I go into the bathroom, hang up the hanger on a towel rack, and start the shower. Rain hisses outside, and the water-pipes scream. I pull my shirt off and kick off my boxers; the water is scalding hot, perfect. I slip into the water and let the water burn. Memories rupture in my head, as I press it against the cold tile of the shower wall. _"You don't have to help, seine." Nein, I want to. "It's a shame Ihr Bruder doesn't want to come through the door." Bruder is just an ass. "Don't talk about him like that. Ha-ha, he'll get emotional again." Ja, you think so? "Nein, we're Weillschmidts; emotions never get the best of us!" _I pour shampoo in my hair and mindlessly scrub at my head. _"Congratulations, mein Sohn!" Nein, I only got salutatorian. "It's still great!" Still not valedictorian... "Still damn amazing!" You think? Bruder was valedictorian... "Ihr Bruder didn't _work_ for it, so what do you say? Let's get ourselves some beer!"_ I rinse out the shampoo, wash my face, and sit under the burning water; grabbing a towel off the rack and turning off the shower, I dry myself off, wrap the towel around my waist, and start to shave my face. _"So, I think it's time to teach you to shave." Really? It's not that obvious... "Nein, but you should know." Oh, well... "Besides, you're always studying. I never get to spend time with you." All you have to do is ask. "You're always so serious about studying; I feel bad for taking you away from it." You should really just ask, Vati. _Reality bites me when my razor nicks my neck. "...Fuck..." I wipe off the blood and get dressed. When I open the door, Bruder is tying his tie and smiles at me morosely.

"So..." I start.

"Can you help me slick back my hair?" He asks.

"Ja," I walk into the bathroom; he follows. Rubbing a small amount of hair gel in my hands, I run my hands through his hair.

"Danke, I haven't done this in a long time." He watches as I slick back my hair, and next thing I know, he's wiping the tears from my cheeks. "I know today's going to be hard on all of us."

"Bruder, I –"

"Ja, we all miss him." He comforts. "_She_'sgoing to tell us we need to go soon."

"Alright, let's go." I walk towards the door.

"It's wrong that he doesn't get to see Deutschland in his rest."

"I thought that we were going to scatter his ashes –"

"Nein, _she_ says it's unethical; I just think she doesn't want me to get my way." He sulks as we walk down the stairs. He looks so _different_ with his hair out of his face; his eyes are a lot more intimidating...

The three of us sit in my car, silent. I'm driving, _of course_. Mutti's in the passenger seat, and Bruder's in the back looking out the window. I look left and right for Greenlawn Funeral home. I really don't think they should call it a 'home.' 'Morgue' fits better. I pull into the parking lot, where a few couples walk into the building; they must have known Vati as well. I park the car, take a deep breath, grab the umbrella in the dashboard compartment, and step out of the car, opening the umbrella. I hold it over Bruder's door as he steps out of the car. Mutti brought her own. We walk to the door, held open by a man with fake sympathies. I close my umbrella; I sign into the book, who needs a guest book for a funeral and wake? Mutti didn't say shit about a wake; I start to dread the idea of an open casket. Nein, they wouldn't do that, right? Well, they could, but how did he die? I can feel something clogging my throat. Maybe I tied my tie too tight, but it'd look disrespectful to loosen it now. Bruder and I stand in line, a line leading to the casket. Women are sniffling and trying not to cry. The men are coughing to hide those pre-crying breaths, but Bruder and I must look cold, not a tear in sight from either of us. As we approach the casket, my fear becomes true; it's an open casket. Mutti taps my shoulder.

"Alaric would want you to remember him the way he was when in New York, so please, don't keep this in your heads." I swallow my saliva, well, try to, but my mouth is dry. The man in front of us turns to walk back into the other room; when he sees Bruder and me, he gasps.

"You must be his boys." We nod. "He always talked about how proud he was of you two. Both on the top of whatever you did. I'm sorry for your lo–"

"Don't." I smile solemnly. He nods hesitantly and walks away at a brisk pace; I can hear whispers of pity for Alaric Weillschmidt's sons. We walk to the casket; I can hear Bruder holding his breath. He pulls something out of his pocket, a ring, and slips it into Vati's suit pocket. I just stare; the man that raised me for eighteen years can't be here, like this, in this ridiculously expensive box. I notice a round gash in Vati's head, hidden a bit by make up, so that the regular viewer would not have to see. Proof that this was Vati, and I would never have to deal with his obnoxious jokes anymore, help him walk home from bars anymore, or discuss literary preferences anymore. Bruder pulls me away gently; if he hadn't, I probably would have stared for hours. We sit in chairs across the room from the casket and watch Mutti soak up the condolences of others. A few people glance our way, all in pity. Everyone is eventually herded into a room, where everyone shares a story or says something inspirational. Bruder and I never get up. What's there to say? 'We spent our lives with this man, but now he's dead. We all move on though?'

"I remember Alaric was always a goodhearted man, always pulled his weight and more." A man reminisces. All these men are from Georgia, not one from New York, and not a single one from Deutschland, where all his college and high school friends would be bawling. I can feel eyes on me, watching for me to shed tears or sympathizing my hard struggle to hold face during such a hard time.

More stories are told; the main point was Alaric Weillschmidt was a great man. No one knew him like his friends and family in Deutschland though. We sit through a Requiem Mass for the next hour. Then Bruder, two of the funeral home employees, and I end up carrying the casket out back to be buried. It's not that the box was very heavy, especially with four people carrying it, but it felt heavy because emotionally it sunk my heart like lead in the ocean. The rain pounded on the casket, now closed, and all four of us, and it felt like the world itself was grieving the loss of another good person. I look up and through the dense rain; I can make out the image of a priest and all the others. When we appear with the casket, I make out the image of Fynn, Vati's childhood friend; Ella, another friend; and Niklas, his best friend and previous business partner. They smile gravely, when they see Bruder and me. We place the casket on a device probably used to lower it six feet below the ground, and right after, the priest opens his bible and begins:

"Out of respect for Alaric Weillschmidt and love for his family, we have gathered here today in this yard of mourning. We are not here to eulogize him; that was done through everyone here and throughout his godly life. He lived a well and healthy two score and twelve laboring for the Lord's will. Though he was not a preacher, he preached through his everyday life and service to others. 'Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints.' That which is so dark and heart-wrenching to us, in this case, is precious in God's eyes, for one of His children has come home. When a faithful child of God dies, they are released from the pain, uncertainty, and inequities of this life. 'For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.' In every instance, when a faithful child of God departs this life for the next, they have great gain. 'Then I heard a voice from heaven saying to me, Write: Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on. Yes, says the Spirit, that they may rest from their labors, and their works follow them.' We often speak of 'time's side of eternity'–it would be far better if we lived more in the view of God's side of eternity. Though death is certain for all of us, we can triumph over it in Christ. Living for God makes both life and death meaningful. 'To the righteous, death is a doorway leading to a crown.' As William Laud said, 'Grant, O Lord, that we may live in they fear, die in thy favor, rest in thy peace, rise in thy power, reign in thy glory, for Thine own beloved Son's sake, Jesus Christ our Lord.'" He closes his bible and hands out lilies to everyone. Most of the people drop the flowers on the casket and leave crying, but his friends from Deutschland, Mutti, Bruder and I drop our flowers and watch them lower him into the ground and bury the expensive box that holds Vati. After all is said and done, we talk with his friends, small talk. Talk so small that I don't even care to remember. We're soaking wet, but neither of us could find the reason to hold an umbrella. Besides, the rain hid the fact that we were both crying, but no one had to know that. Mutti walks with her umbrella to the car. I wrap my arm around Bruder who's sniffling.

"Fucking priest, all high and mighty with his generalized speech he says for everyone." He complains in my chest.

"It's not as bad as all the people looking at us. People who didn't even know Vati." I whisper. I look at the marble gravestone: 'Alaric Eraric Weillschmidt, father, husband, leader. [1960 – 2012].'

"His gravestone is shit too." He continues, but I know that this is his way of grieving. We stand in the rain for a few more minutes, before trudging back to the car where Mutti waits impatient as hell. We get to the car; I unlock it. We all get in and sit in our respective seats.

"Ludwig, you're going to ruin your car seats with all that rain water, after you already ruined your clothes!" She points out.

"They were cheap. I'll get new ones at home." I start the car. "I'll dry the seats when we get to your house."

"I thought _you _of all people would have taken precaution and stayed under an umbrella." She mutters.

"Ja, well it's my car and my clothes, so in the end, it's my problem." I hiss.

"What's _your _problem?"

"I don't know. Mein Vater's _dead_, and meine Mutter doesn't seem to care a bit." She waits until we're at a stoplight; once the red light is evident, she smacks me across the face.

"How can you say that to your _own_ mother? Of course, I miss Alaric; your father and I were madly in love."

"Bullshit..." I let slip; my face hurts.

"What has gotten into _you_?" I can expect another slap at the next red light.

"The truth. He loved Leoni and their son, bruderlein. She may have died, but her son is still here. Vati loved Gilbert and I more than you, and you _hated_ that." Vati always was cold towards Mutti compared to the loving personality that always shone through when he was with Bruder and me.

"You ungrateful – You have _no_ idea what I put up with!"

"You have no idea what Bruder puts up with." I can see his eyes look at me from the rear-view mirror. "Seine Mutter is dead; sein Vater is dead. Yet he still puts up with the rude and harsh remarks you put towards him! If you _truly _loved Vati, you would love Bruder the same way you love me, because he is Vati's son, regardless of his mother, you should love him just as you did Vati and I."

"Ludwig.." I can feel her eyes on me.

"Or do you only hate him because you're jealous of Vati's love of seine Mutter?" The car falls silent.

"You don't know what it's like, to fall in love with a man whose heart belongs to another." She admits. "Whatever I did was always second rate to her. He only married me because I reminded him of her. Whereas I truly loved him, he only loved her, and so I grew jealous, spiteful even of her and Ihr Bruder."

"I'm sorry." I sympathize.

"Don't, because no matter what, I can't stop being jealous of you, Gilbert. You don't even look like her, but he always saw you as his only connection to her."

"Drop dead, it doesn't change bullshit. You hate me." Bruder mutters coldly, looking out the window at the rain.

**A/N:** So I don't know if there ever was a human name for Germania, so I just named him Alaric after the first king of one of the six Germanic tribes.

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	15. Fifteen, with Gilbert

**Fifteen, with Gilbert.**

Georgia sucked, and nothing was worth remembering past the funeral. The car ride sucked; Bruder was on the phone with Feliciana and later, his professor. Being home has never felt better; except, he goes out almost every other day with her. He never looks at me, doesn't even think about what happened in Georgia, but I can't forget and I _still _want him... I watch him leave and then go upstairs to change. Bar-tending is ok; I get to talk and clear my head from everything else. I tie the uniform standard bow-tie around my neck, under my collar. Done, I slip on my shoes and walk out into the chilly summer evening air. I walk mindlessly, and my feet know the way. I look up occasionally to see how much longer it will take. I check my phone at the door, no new messages. I sigh and walk into the bar.

"Hey, beautiful, how 'bout you come home with me tonight?" A customer that's always here calls out to me from the bar.

"_Gehen fick dich!_" I shout at him as I walk behind the bar.

"I'd love to make you scream." He persists. I walk past him and cater to the others at the bar. One martini: two and a half ounces of vodka, one fourth ounce of brine from the cocktail olives, and a hint of dry vermouth. The girl smiles at the martini, takes it from my hand, and sips it.

"Mmmm, a dirty martini." She smiles.

"Ja, if you're gonna have a damn drink make it dirty!" I joke. She laughs, writes her number down and hands it to me.

"Call me." She hops off the stool and walks away with the glass to a table. I slip the paper into my pocket. I ignore the man's constant banters on screwing me and answer another man's order. A Boilerjager: pour twelve ounces of Samuel Adams black lager into a glass, pour two ounces of Jagermeister herbal liqueur into a shot glass, drop the shot glass into the glass of Samuel Adams. I hand him the drink, he thanks me and falls into his own company. I get called over to a group of women, all asking for black velvets. Can't you people just order a beer? I grab six champagne flutes and pour five ounces of cold stout into them, and then slowly pour in five ounces of cold champagne in, trying to keep the stout separated from the champagne. I hand them the drinks; they hand me the money. A man orders a Genesee beer; I happily fetch him a bottle. No multiple drinks required, simple; I love this guy! I hand him the bottle; he hands me my money. Before I pull away, he grabs my hand and whispers in my ear:

"What do you say we meet up after you leave the bar?"

"I don't know; I'm working till four." I reply watching the seconds hand move around the clock.

"I can wait." He smiles. He doesn't look _too_ bad either. I flash him a smile as I walk over to cater to others. I might as well, right? He calls me over again. "Not to be rude, but lets test your bar-tending skills. Make me an 'Adios Motherfucker.'"

"Uh, sure. I still hate that name." I start as I get a cup. Adios Motherfucker:half an ounce of vodka, rum, tequila, gin, and Blue Curacao liqueur, two ounces of sweet and sour mix, and top with two ounces of 7-Up, stir gently and serve.

"That was _fast_. How long have you been bar-tending?" He asks handing me the money.

"Five years." I answer mindlessly.

"Wow, I know people that have bar-tended longer, but even they can't whip up one of these like that!" He compliments, I think...

"Well, I aspire to be the best." I assure. "One second." I turn to another guy asking for a sake bomb. I don't even think we have sake. I search around for sake; fortunately, we have some. I pour a shot of sake and a cup of beer, hand him the shot and the glass, and take his money. "So, where were we?" I turn around.

"You're too good looking to be tending to these men." He flirts. He has sandy brown hair, green eyes, and a fair complexion.

"Ja? What are you doing here?"

"I got dumped by my boyfriend." He sighs.

"I did, too... I guess?" I turn around and get someone a Tijuana Carbomb: a bottle of Corona Extra Lager in a glass and a shot of gold rum. I hand the man the shot and glass and take his money. I watch him drop the shot into the cup and drink it in a few seconds.

– –

Four in the morning, six hours of serving people left and right and trying to keep a conversation leave me worn out and tired, but I have a four in the morning 'date' with 'Roy.' He smiles when I walk out of the bar. He holds my hand and kisses my forehead, but I'm pretty sure this is going to be a one night stand, well one 'morning' stand. We walk through the sleeping streets to his apartment. He pretends to act surprised that we've happened by his apartment, but I know it was planned. Somehow, I can't seem to care. The door closes, and his lips are on mine. I pretend to enjoy it, but every time, I think of Bruder: his lips, his hands, his neck, his length. I close my eyes and pretend.

"Top or bottom?" He whispers into my ear.

"Bottom." I grab his tie from around his neck, wrap it around my head, and tie it there. I would give anything to feel Bruder near me, inside me, but he won't.

"Hot." He bites at my ear. I focus on imagining Bruder. He pushes me on the bed, tearing at my shirt, while I blindly grab wherever my hands tend to fall and tear at any clothing that I feel. "Fiesty aren't you?" He slips his hand under my shirt and pinches my nipple.

"Mmmm, Bruder..." I moan as he slips off my shirt and replaces his hand with his mouth; my face is burning. Everywhere he touches me feels like it's on fire; my hands run through his hair as I wait unknowing of the where he'll touch next.

"Aren't you precious?" I can hear him unbuckle his belt, unzip his pants, and move closer to me. I can 'see' Bruder blushing as I move down his chest to his groin, and before I know it, I'm sucking him off. I can feel him hit the back of my throat: once, twice, and well, you get the point. I can feel his length twitching in my mouth, along with him moaning loudly, so before he can pull away I take one last hard suck. "Oh...God..." He moans as he releases his seed in my mouth and chuckles as excess runs over my lips. I can feel his hand grab my chin gently and enjoy his long kiss that leaves me gasping for breath. "Damn, that blindfold makes you look cute." He coos as he presses a finger in my mouth. "Suck." He commands; all this is getting me incredibly hard, the image of Bruder commanding me, Gott... I comply and suck on his finger; he pulls it away and slides it into my ass.

"Ahhh," I whimper.

"Damn, you're tight." He slowly moves his finger in and out, and I obediently acquire his rhythm. Arching my back, I let him press my face to the wall, after he flipped me onto all fours. He slips in another finger and picks up the pace. His other hand is in my hair; why do I enjoy this so much? I used to be an exclusive top; I used to get pissed off at the very idea of being a bottom or blindfolds. I imagine Bruder; oh Gott, how I wish this were Bruder. I gasp when I feel another finger. He kisses my cheek lightly, while he quickens his pace. "Are you ready?"

"Shut up and fuck me." I remember his face, when I commanded him to do that last time. A smile graces my face with that memory. He presses against me, teasing my ass; I just wish he'd get it over with. When he plunges into me for the first time, that awkward pause is filled with ecstatic pleasure and excruciating pain; his hand covers my mouth, just like before. I can feel his breath behind my ear as he slowly begins to pick a pace and turn my head awkwardly to blindly catch his lips which taste like all the drinks I made for him all night.  
"...Shit...God, you're so damn tight..." He moans into my ear.

"Faster," I beg, as he places his hands on my hips to get a better leverage. My breath is catching in my throat, and I'm literally gasping for air. "Harder, _bitte._"

"Do it yourself." He teases, as he pulls me into his lap. I begin to ride him, which is even _better_. I can feel him hitting deeper with every thrust. His hand snakes around my neck, squeezing lightly. I choke a bit. "Does that bother you?"

"I don't know." I gasp.

"Want to try again?" He squeezing again, and with the lack of breath, somehow, it feels _awesome_. I can't believe how good this feels, but how sick in the head it makes me... But who cares? He pinches my nipples and bites my neck. All of this feels tens times better with the idea that Bruder is doing all of these things to me. "Well, aren't you kinky?" I want him to kiss me again, and he bites my lips raw. I can feel my stomach welling with the feeling of orgasm.

"Haaaahhhh, Bruder..." I moan when I him touch my groin and slide his hand up and down, painfully slow.

"What does that mean? 'Bruder.'" The sound of the word actually spoken by another. With him stroking me and pumping in my ass, hell, I can't take much longer. I whimper at the intense pleasure, and he blows into my ear. "Don't cum until I say so." His commands make my head feel light, as I loll my head back against his shoulder.

"_Bitte_." I beg; I can't hold it much longer. I blush as I feel my own fluids drip over my length and his hand.

"That's too bad." He sighs, as he sucks on my neck for a few seconds. "Your punishment is to wear this for a few days, so everyone knows what you've done today."

"Bruder," I rest my head against his shoulder. He unties the blindfold, and my intensified pleasure is gone because I'm with Roy not Bruder. I slide my legs off the side of the bed, grabbing my clothes.

"Hmmm," He leans against my back. "Well, that was fun wasn't it?"

"Ja," I only enjoyed it because I was imagining Bruder; _how sick am I_?

"Well, now I know where to find you, if I ever want to go again." I can hear his smug smile.

"Ja," I slip on my boxers and pants. "Well, I'm going to go home now." I inform awkwardly as I get myself and slip my bow-tie into my pocket.

"See you around." I walk out the door, wander about the apartment complex, and recognize that Francis lives somewhere in the building. I walk around looking for number 5700. Once I find it, I knock and wait for the answer. When the door opens, I spot Francis. "Ah, mein bester freund, may I use your shower?"

"Oui, but may I ask why you're not at home using _your_ shower?" A smile pulls at his lips.

"Just let my use your shower." I repeat. He invites me in, and I walk into the bathroom, lock the door, and check it twice because Francis is a peeping tom. I turn on the shower, lukewarm, good enough. I step under the heavy waterfall, run my hands through my hair to clear my head, and clean up a bit with the bar of soap. I'll wash my hair at home; I just don't feel like walking home in dried sweat. About five minutes later, I step out of the shower, dry off and get dressed again. When I open the door, I find Francis leaning against the door. "Do you have _any_ boundaries?"

"Who's the hickey from?" He asks. I look in the mirror; damn, he really did leave a hickey and a dark one at that.

"A friend." I sigh, as I walk towards the door. "Danke, for letting me use your shower. I'm going home now."

"Be careful~~~~!" He waves goodbye from his apartment door. I step out into the crisp air of a summer morning.

**A/N:** So, Ludwig spends time with Feliciana, while Gilbert has sex with another man, fantasizing that it's Ludwig. Hmmmm. Please Review, it is greatly appreciated. (:

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	16. Sixteen

**Sixteen.**

I kissed her, and stereotypical assumption, everything starts with a kiss. I don't remember why we were even at my house. She came inside, and we kissed again and again. I don't remember how we ended up in my room. The taste of her lips was sweet like peppermint, or is that bitter? Her hands were under my shirt, sliding it up. I _should_ stop, but I _want _this. Her brown eyes stare at me as she pulls her shirt off, revealing a white bra with frilly lace stuff lining the edges. She kisses me, and I kiss her back. Had I still been a virgin, I _probably_ wouldn't be doing this.

"Ti amo." She whispers.

"Ich liebe dich." Easier said than felt, but I _do _love her..._right?_ My body wants this; my head is just full of static, white noise without a single hint of understanding.

"Are you a virgin?" She sounds nervous.

"Ja," _liar_. Well, I've never had sex with a woman... "Are you?"

"Non..." She looks into my eyes. "Does that bother you?"

"Nein," because I lied and neither am I. Who was the one that brought us to the bed? My elbows rest on either side of her head as I kiss her. Her arms around my neck, and her smell is intoxicating. She guides my hand to her breast; a blush forms across my face. She pecks me on the cheek. I kiss from her lips to her jaw to her collarbone. I have the broadest idea of what to do. I look up at her and smile meekly; she smiles back. My hands reach around to her bra clasp, which I hope to Gott isn't so insanely complex thing; I blush more when my hands struggle with the clasp. She smiles, and her hands guide mine as she pulls me in for a kiss. My hands rest on her spine, pressing her gently into my chest. Everything feels so _gentle_, compared to... I close my eyes to clear my head. Her hands are pulling my shirt over my head; I assist, throwing the piece of clothing at the door.

"I'm just lucky aren't I?" She remarks looking at my chest. I kiss her collarbone and slowly move down to her breasts; she gasps and grips my hair between her fingers. I must be doing something right. A few moments pass, and I move to the other breast. She continues to gasp; well, until she got sick of it and flipped me on my back. Now, I think I've experience the next thing before. She unbuckles my belt, unzips my pants, slides down my pants, and tugs off my boxers with her teeth. I can only stare in awe. Her hand makes contact with my sensitive skin, causing me to shudder; she rubs it, slowly increasing the pressure, which feels increasingly better with every stroke. Her mouth is amazing, and I can't comprehend how she and Bruder do it. I shake my head a little, forget it. Is it genetics that make a girl better at giving a blow job than a guy or was I trying to fight my enjoyment with Bruder? Nein, forget it. My stomach feels tense, and I know enough to recognize this feeling now. I whine a bit when she pulls away; she stands, presses her forehead to mine, and bites my lip gently. I feel her slide something on my length; there's no doubt that it's a condom. So this is really happening? She pushes me back onto the bed, and I roll over and look down into her eyes. "So here we are."

"Ja," I smile.

"Ti amo." She whispers as I slide her skirt down along with her underwear. Her legs wrap around my waist, guiding me to where I should be focusing. I hope not to disappoint as I slip my finger inside of her slowly. She gasps, and I slip in another finger. She's just as embarrassed as I am; I slowly move my fingers, slowly adding a third. Her eyes are narrowed in pleasure. "Stop with the foreplay, just do it."

"Oh, ja..." I slowly pull my fingers out. She kisses me as I push into her gently. Her arms are around my neck; her back is arched. My hands caress her back. It feels so different as I slowly move; maybe it's the condom. I kiss her neck; she's breathing into my ear. I can't say I don't enjoy it though; it's great and _normal_.

"Mmmm," I can feel her throat hum under my lips. Her hand slides up my neck into my hair. "Ti amo."

"Ahhh, Feliciana..." I bury my face into her hair, which smells of vanilla and jasmine, maybe. My hand intertwines with hers against the pillow.

"Faster," she cries, squeezing my hand. I comply; her legs are digging into my sides. I love her, so why does it always sound like I'm trying to convince myself? _"Ich liebe dich, bruderlein." _Nein, if I don't love her, I _definitely_ don't love Bruder. Why is the thought of us in Georgia bug me so much? I kiss her, and her hand is squeezing so hard that her knuckles are white while her other hand is on my back raking away at my skin. My stomach tenses again, and I pick up my pace in a futile attempt at denial. To remind me that I'm almost finished, her walls tighten considerably around me, and I guess this is the end. I pull out.

"Feliciana," I sigh, brushing hair out of her face, and she kisses me. I make a note: clean your bedsheets and condoms suck. I slip off the stupid piece of rubber and crawl into my bed next to her. She rests her head on my chest; I just watch her.

"Ti amo, Ludwig Wilhelm Weillschmidt." I laugh lightly.

"So someone found out my middle name?" She looks at me with a slight smile.

"Si, Antonio pestered it out of your brother." I _can _imagine that; Bruder fighting with Antonio, interesting.

"Antonio? I thought it would have been Francis." She kisses me.

"Antonio can be persistent." She sucks on my neck for a few seconds.

"I was seriously, too. I _really_ love you, Ludwig." She rests her head back on my chest.

"Ich liebe dich auch." I rest my chin on her head. Every time I say it, I feel like I'm still lying to myself. She falls asleep, and I check to make sure that she's asleep. I look up at my clock, 4:15. Ah, Bruder should be home; I slip out of bed, put on my boxers, and wander downstairs. To my surprise, he's not walking through the door at 4:30 like always. Opening the refrigerator, I open a beer and sip on it lightly; I find the paper on the table and attempt to read it. Odd, I normally read it with coffee, but here I am reading it with a beer. I gaze up at the oven clock 5:56. Halfway through the newspaper, I continue reading; when I get to the last paragraph of the health section, the door opens. Bruder walks in, distraught and wet. "Was it raining?"

"Nein, I took a shower at Francis'." He walks to the fridge. "What are you doing up this late, and more importantly, how many of _those_ have you had?"

"One, I swear. Feliciana's sleeping." I explain idly.

"_Why_?" He sounds upset.

"Because she is."

"You sleep with her?" He stares at me as he opens his beer. He sits across from me, and I can see a hickey on his neck, which makes my mind race. Who is it from? Why does he have it? Does that person matter to him? Do _I_ matter to him?

"Nein," I lie. I'm a liar.

"Oh," a wave of relief washes across his face.

"Who's that from?" I try to keep a straight tone.

"Some sexually harassing guy from the bar." He pulls his collar up. "Reading the newspaper with a beer?"

"I thought it would help me go to sleep opposed to coffee." I mumble finishing the newspaper.

"Well, just drink one." He commands as he walks upstairs with his beer. Closing the newspaper, I rinse out my beer bottle and leave it in the sink. Slowly, I ascend back into my room, closing the door right behind me; I settle back in bed and close my eyes.

– –

The light shines through my window and dances on Feliciana's skin as she wakes up. I smile sleepily. She slips out of bed, and I watch her get dressed. I guess that's the sign that I should too; I throw my legs over the side of the bed and sit with my head in my hands. I'm just digging myself further into this hole. I stand up and follow Feliciana downstairs where she makes coffee as I read the paper for today. The coffee maker purrs, spitting coffee into the pot, and the aroma of fresh coffee drifts to my nose.

"Don't you have lazy mornings?" She asks, watching me.

"Store doesn't open till eleven. It's nine." My eyes drift across the paper.

"I've had to be to work by eight once." She informs.

"I'm sorry. How much do I owe you for watching the store?" I look at her.

"You paid me last night." She jokes, walking over to the table. "Besides, you wear my mark, and that's good enough for me."

"Are you sure?" My brain keeps telling me that I'm being a douche.

"Si, ti amo." She whispers into my ear; my eyes close but snap open when I hear Bruder slamming the fridge. He's wearing a collared shirt, hiding his neck. I watch him; that mark is _not_ from a stranger. Why does it bug me?

"Guten morgen." He greets Feliciana.

"Buongiorno." She smiles at him. He pours orange juice and sneaks some vodka from under the cabinet. He stirs his cup lightly, and I wonder how long he's been drinking that for breakfast. He sits next to me and snatches the paper.

"So how's Deutschland doing in the Euro Cup?" He asks sipping his orange juice cocktail.

"Hmmm, four to two."

"Now _that_'s awesome!" He remarks.

"They face Italia next, and I can tell you that they'll lose." Feliciana pokes in.

"Nein! Deutschland hasn't lost a game yet!" Bruder points out. "Italien has only won once and tied the rest."

"I think the game will turn and you'll lose." She continues; I just read my politics. Politics, still discussing Obama and Putin's five year old act towards each other.

"What do you think, Bruder?" He asks.

"Whoever wins, wins." I sigh.

"You're such a Pazifist."

"Since when does Fußball include violence?" I read more of my paper.

"Fußball is a battle between countries because everyone's too pussy to start WWIII!"

"I think the government's going to lock you up." He smiles; I glare at him.

"And then I'll persuade them to start WWIII!"

"You're stupid."

"Valedictorian."

"Shut up."

"You two are just like my sister and me." Feliciana adds.

"Nein! I'm not a psycho!" Bruder yells.

"Yes, you are, especially when you don't take your meds." I joke.

"Fuck you." He hisses as he pours more orange juice with a bit of vodka. If he were a normal guy, I'd love to see him at the end of the day. "Least I have _freunds_!"

"Well, you got me there. I'm mister antisocial, and I have a _girlfriend_."

"Hey, Ludwig, I have to go to work." Feliciana interjects as she flees our chaotic house.

"Good riddance." Bruder hisses.

"Stop being a jackass." I pour coffee.

"Whatever," he sighs as he places his lips to mine.

"Nein!" I push him away. "This is wrong."

"Says the Bruder who fucked me." He is right.

"Doesn't mean it wasn't wrong!"

"What am I to you?" Red eyes accuse.

"I don't know.." I don't want to look him in the face.

"Tell me, or I tell her what happened in Georgia." He threatens, and I know he's dead serious.

**A/N:** Oh, Ludwig, you really should make up your mind.

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	17. Seventeen

**Seventeen.**

"Denial, also called 'abnegation,' is a defense mechanism postulated by our good friend Sigmund Freud, in which a person is faced with a fact that is too uncomfortable to accept and rejects it instead, insisting that it is not true despite what may be overwhelming evidence. The subject may use simple denial and deny the reality of the unpleasant fact altogether, minimization and admit the fact but deny its seriousness which creates a combination of denial and rationalization, or projection and admit both the fact and seriousness but deny responsibility. The theory of denial was first researched seriously by Anna Freud. She classified denial as a mechanism of a immature mind, because it conflicts with the ability to learn from and cope with reality. Where denial occurs in mature minds, it is most often associated with death, dying, and rape. More recent research has significantly expanded the scope and utility of the concept. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross used denial as the first of five stages in the psychology of a dying patient, and the idea has been extended to include the reactions of survivors to news of a death. Thus, when parents are informed of the death of a child, their first reaction is often of the form, 'No! You must have the wrong house, you can't mean our child!'" I feel like Dr. Swartz has a secret telepathic communication with my brain without me knowing. I don't love Bruder, but isn't that denial? Nein. "Unlike some other defense mechanisms postulated by psychoanalytic theory, a quick example is repression, the general existence of denial is fairly easy to verify, even for the everyday Joe. On the other hand, denial is one of the most controversial defense mechanisms, since it can be easily used to create unfalsifiable theories: anything the subject says or does that appears to disprove the interpreter's theory is explained, not as evidence that the interpreter's theory is wrong, but as the subject's being 'in denial.' However, researchers note that in some cases of corroborated child sexual abuse, the victims sometimes make a series of partial confessions and recantations as they struggle with their own denial and the denial of abusers or family members. Use of denial theory in a legal setting therefore must be carefully regulated and experts' credentials verified. 'Formulaic guilt' simply by 'being a denier' has been castigated by English judges and academics. Now, I've said a lot, so can anyone tell me a type of denial? Toby?"

"Denial of impact which involves a person's avoiding thinking about or understanding the harms that his or her behavior has caused to self or others, also known as 'denial of the consequences.' Doing this enables that person to avoid feeling a sense of guilt, and it can prevent him or her from developing remorse or empathy for others. Denial of impact reduces or eliminates a sense of pain or harm from poor decisions." 'Toby' answers.

"Steven?" Dr. Swartz volunteers.

"Denial of fact in which someone avoids a fact by lying. This lying can take the form of an outright falsehood, leaving out certain details to tailor a story, or by falsely agreeing to something. Someone who is in denial of fact is typically using lies to avoid facts they think may be painful to themselves or others." 'Steven' is reading off his computer.

"Grace?"

"Denial of cycle which is where a person avoids looking at their decisions leading up to an event or does not consider their pattern of decision making and how harmful behavior is repeated. The pain and harm being avoided by this type of denial is more of the effort needed to change the focus from a singular event to looking at preceding events. It can also serve as a way to blame or justify behavior." She seems to know her stuff.

"Aaron?"

"Denial of denial which can be a difficult concept for many people to identify within themselves but is a major barrier to changing hurtful behaviors. Denial of denial involves thoughts, actions and behaviors which bolster confidence that nothing needs to be changed in one's personal behavior. This form of denial typically overlaps with all of the other forms of denial, but involves more self-delusion. Denial at this level can have significant consequences both personally and at a societal level." Go 'Aaron;' he's a tool.

"Elizabeth?"

"Denial of awareness which is best discussed by looking at the concept of state dependent learning. People using this type of denial will avoid pain and harm by stating they were in a different state of awareness, such as alcohol, drug intoxication, or on occasion, a mental health problem. This type of denial often overlaps with denial of responsibility." She's _actually _pretty smart.

"And what is denial of responsibility, Ludwig?" He and the rest of the class turn to me.

"Denial of responsibility involves avoiding personal responsibility by blaming with a direct statement shifting culpability which may overlap with denial of fact, minimizing with an attempt to make the effects or results of an action appear to be less harmful than they may actually be, or justifying with someone taking a choice and attempting to make that choice look okay due to their perception of what is 'right' in a situation. Someone using denial of responsibility is usually attempting to avoid potential harm or pain by shifting attention away from themselves." The words just fall from my mouth.

"Well done, all of you." He compliments.

– –

Denial, hah, funny. I rest my head against the steering wheel. I don't know why, but my head is pounding with no end. There's a sharp pain in my head. All I have to do is drive home and then, go to bed. I've never been happier to see the cement of the driveway, and I've never loved the feeling of the closet tile under my feet as I walk into the house as much I do now. One foot after the other, I slowly ascend the stairs; when I reach my bedroom, my body just flops on the bed. Sleep is the only cure for this sort of pain; after all, I can't take any pain relievers. My eyes squeeze shut in hopes of expediting the relief of sleep. I wake up; it's still dark out. I glance at the clock as I kick off my clothes and stumble to the bathroom to piss, when I hear a familiar voice.

"Haahh, Bruder..." My face burns red at the sound of his voice... "Mmmm."

"It's only been a day, but I'm _really_ wondering who this 'Bruder' is." An unfamiliar voice hisses; my interest peaks. I quietly walk over the cold hardwood floors and towards the crack of light that is coming from bruderlein's room. His gasps and tiny moans drift to my ears before I even reach the door. "Who knew, I'd be _so_ lucky to meet up with you _twice_."

"Bruder..." You know those movies where the child sees more than he's supposed to when he looks through a crack in the door? It doesn't just happen to children; it can happen to grown men too. My eyes are wide, and I can't look away. The blush on his face is evident, but his eyes are hidden behind a tacky, cheap tie. A man looms over Bruder; the man's in his late thirties maybe. I don't know what made me walk in the door, during such a thing.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man hisses at me.

"The one in charge of this house." I inform. "And the one in charge of him." I gesture towards Bruder.

"Get your own slut." My hands grab his shirt; why does his statement piss me off?

"Get out of _my_ house." I follow him to the door, and after he's gone, I return to Bruder's bedroom. He's got boxers on and is staring out the window, clearly to avoid looking at me. "_Why_?"

"Because." He whispers.

"Why the fucking hell would you sleep with some creep you don't even know?" Why am I so mad?

"Because I'm the only one who remembers Georgia without regret."

"Vas?"

"You love her, and you always will. I'm not stupid. You slept with her last night; she wouldn't be over here to just _sleep_."

"How would _that_ motivate you to do something so _repulsive_?"

"Because I'm _human_, Ludwig. I get jealous as hell seeing you with her, and you _knew_..." "_I __slept around because I thought _maybe_ I could find someone who would take my mind off of you."_ "She could be dumb as rocks, but she'll always be better than me, your own blood."

"Gil..." I want to comfort him, but I have no right.

"Why the fuck did it _have _to be _you_?" He holds his head in his hands. I walk over to him, kneel in front of him, and listen. "She's so pretty and perfect for you, and to think someone who is as _repulsive_ as me could even think that you would like me like that."

"I don't think you're repulsive... I was just mad; I'm sorry." I look at his hands, slowly being drenched in tears.

"Nein, you were right. I am disgusting." My hands slowly pull his away; I kiss his lips gently.

"Nicht, you are far from it." I assure.

"Ersparen Sie mir; you love her." I wipe away his tears.

"Shhh..." I coo as I kiss his cheek.

"I'm so selfish; it must disgust you."

"Nothing about you can disgust me." I smile.

"What am I to you?" His eyes search for negative answers.

"More than you think." I lie down on his bed, and he lies down next to me. I wrap my arms around him. "I really would rather sit like this, than sex."

"I like this, too." He presses his head to my chest.

"Just for the record, I wouldn't keep coming back to you, if I didn't love you."

**A/N:** Seems like Dr. Swartz's speech on denial helped Ludwig. Please Review.

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	18. Eighteen, with Gilbert

**Eighteen, with Gilbert.**

I wake up to an empty bed; the clock reads 12:00. He already left for work. I could go visit him; I roll out of bed and get dressed. On my way out, I skim the newspaper 'Dr. Amanda Itzkoff America's Favorite Psychiatrist' and drop the paper back on the table. It's unawesome, but psychiatrists scare the shit out of me. Go figure, Bruder wants to be one; I sigh as I walk out the door. My phone rings, and I answer.

"Mon ami, where have you been?" Francis whines through the phone.

"Ach, well, I've been busy, kind of." My shoulders shrug, even though Francis can't see.

"A little birdy told me that your brother is dating Feliciana Vargas."

"You mean Antonio." That was an obvious fact.

"Another one told me that your brother is sneaking around with 'mystery man.'" A smirk pulls at my lips.

"Ke-se-se-se, if I see any 'mystery man,' I'll be sure to tell you what he looks like."

"Do keep me informed." He begs.

"So, did Elizaveta get married yet?" I haven't thought about that at all lately.

"She keeps putting it off for some reason. Word that's getting around is that Roderich's going to just call it off."

"That would be horrible." When did I get this sympathy for her?

"It would."

"And what's the word about you, Francis?" That's also another thing I haven't paid attention to.

"Met a girl. Her name is Alice; she hates me..."

"What is with you and Antonio and chasing women that hate you? Ke-se-se-se, you two are major masochists or something."

"Are not! Well, maybe Antonio? Ask him yourself!"

"I don't care either way."

"The word about you and you brother is that you're missing a father recently." I can feel my heart sink.

"Ja..."

"Look, you should know that I'm here for you as a friend to confide in, because I bet it's frustrating."

"Damn," I don't want to seem sensitive. "Didn't know you could be _so_ caring, Francis."

"For a friend like you, I can be."

"Well, I'm fine." Lie.

"Are you sure?"

"Never been better." Lie.

"That's great."

"It's awesome." Lie.

"You should hang out with Antonio and me sometime soon."

"Ja."

"Oh, and Gilbert, just because people have hurt you doesn't mean you have to hold up walls around yourself. There are people in this world you _can _trust."

"I know." Lie. The line goes dead. "I know..." I look up, and across the street is the bookstore. I watch through the window as Bruder fights with Feliciana, and guilt eats through my head and heart. I've caused him pain for my own happiness. She storms out of the store, and he doesn't move, doesn't falter. He won't ever tell me how he feels, and I think that he won't ever tell anyone. He appears reserved, but I think underneath his mask he's a storm of emotions, whereas I wear my feelings on my face. My feet decide to cross the street; my hand decides to open the door. His eyes meet mine, and I know what to say.

"Hey," he greets.

"I've never been in here." I admit.

"It's nice." He looks at the shelves.

"So, I" don't want to do this, but I've seen you with her.

"You what?" His blue eyes search me, concerned.

"I'm getting back with Elizaveta, ha-ha." Lie. Fake smile.

"Oh," his jaw tenses.

"Ja, she realized that she doesn't really like Mr. Fancy." Lie.

"That's great." He smiles. I can't tell why I decided to do this. Lie. He keeps coming back to me, and I feel like I'm weighing him down.

"Well, see you at home." My eyes burn as I turn towards the door. Maybe I'm just to afraid to get hurt, especially by Bruder. My hand turns the doorknob.

"Gil," my body freezes. Please, don't let me walk out the door. "Never mind." My hand turns the knob, and I walk away. Right, it's okay; now we can go back to normal.

– –

"Bruder's in class." I inform Feliciana when I open the door.

"I'm here to talk to you." Her brown eyes are trying to look intimidating.

"About what?" I have a headache.

"Your brother."

"Okay." She walks past me into the house. Ja, invite yourself in. She sits at the table; I sit across from her.

"Ludwig has been very distant lately. I know that your father was very sick lately, but Ludwig seems to be pulling away from everything."

"Wait, what did he tell you about Vati?"

"He said his father was sick, so you two went down to Georgia. Then his father got better, and he came back." Well, 'better' isn't the right term, especially not with a bullet in his head...

"Vati's dead." _"It's not true."_

"Why would Ludwig keep that to himself?"

"He doesn't like to get personal with people. He's very professional, and that's why I think he wants to be a shrink."

"I wish he'd tell me these things."

"I wouldn't push it. He's very composed and grew up keeping to himself. I was a hellfire, and he chose to be an iceberg. I'm not surprised that he's bad with expressing himself."

"I love him; I guess that sounds stupid. I really do though." _Ich liebe dich, Bruder._

"I bet he loves you too." I wish he didn't. "He gets out of class soon. Why don't you go see him?"

"I think I will." She smiles, and I write her directions to his campus. I watch her leave, and my phone rings.

"Hallo?" I answer.

"Gil," _Elizaveta._

"Ja."

"I want to see you." I can hear her sniffle.

"What's wrong?"

"Roderich left me for some violinist."

"Where are you?"

"Around the corner from your house." My legs carry me out of the house.

"I'm coming to see you." She's on the sidewalk, wiping her eyes, her beautiful green eyes.

"I said such horrible things to you..." My arms hold her close.

"I said some shit too." She cries. "Elizaveta."

"Yeah?"

"I love you." Lie. Things have to go back to being normal. Normal like when it hurt to see Bruder with Feliciana, but I could never tell him. Elizaveta follows me into the house, and she kisses me. While she may be in pain from the sudden break up, her intentions are still filled with lust because she can do that to people like me. I kiss her back; I've always thought she was beautiful. Her hands are under my shirt, but I can't get Bruder out of my head. My hands grab her shoulders gently. "I can't."

"Has the eagle's wings been clipped?" Her eyes stare in disappointment.

"Vas?"

"You're not the same. It's like someone tamed you, like a caged bird."

"That's weird."

"Well, you're different." Am I?

"Oh," I look at the ground, and she leaves, just like that...

– –

The door opens but never closes. Footsteps approach the kitchen. Bruder kisses me; a blush is forming on his cheeks. He presses his forehead to mine, and I don't want to pull away. To be embraced by him drives me crazy. I say I want everything to be normal, but if I would never be caressed by his kindness again, I think I would die. My eyes water, and I bury my face in his shoulder. He smells nice, and I wish I weren't so scared to trust him.

"Don't do that." He whispers, and I pull away. "Don't lie about leaving. I couldn't stop thinking about it all day. All day, I thought 'I need to see him, before he leaves me.'" I could never leave him. He frowns in frustration. "I know that I seem very absorbed in everything else, but I have to get good grades to graduate. Then, if you want, we can go back to Deutschland." He grabs my hand and looks in my eyes. "As for Feliciana, I'm going to break up with her, regardless of our situation." He pushes me onto my back on the couch. "And I know that I've been hesitant with you, but Ich liebe dich wirklich." He hovers over me and whispers in my ear, "so please, forgive me."

"I hate you." Stupid tears. "I hate you." I wish it was true. He smiles and kisses my forehead.

"I deserve that." This is the first relationship that I've experienced where sex isn't one of the main activities, and I love it. His phone rings, and jealousy sparks throughout my brain because I know he'll pick it up. However, he takes it out of his pocket and drops it on the ground. "Not important."

"Ich liebe dich, Ludwig."

"Ich liebe dich auch, Gilbert." Our lips meet, and a smile pulls at our faces. We're Brüder, and in the end, we'll always have each other, cliché but true.

**A/N:** So, the phone was finally ignored! Another note, where to end the story? Happy Fourth of July, and once again, thank you so very much for all your reviews ( :

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	19. Nineteen

**Nineteen.**

"Get up." I poke Bruder.

"Nein," he refuses as he pulls the covers over his head.

"Fine, I'm leaving for work." I turn to the door, and his hand grabs my wrist.

"Stay for a little longer." I smile a bit when I turn to the bed and sit on the edge. His arms wrap around me, and I allow him to awkwardly hang there. He kisses my neck, and what I wouldn't give to spend the morning with him instead of work. "You have to go, don't you? …...I'll visit you at the store; I like the nostalgia it gives you."

"I'll be waiting for you." My legs defy my brain and walk away from him, his bed, and to the car. As I pull out of the driveway, I realize my phone is still on the floor by the couch; oh well, I'm technically late for work. Besides, I never really use the damn thing anyways. I park the car with the store in sight and take a moment to enjoy silence and coffee before stepping out of the car. Feliciana's at the door, waiting, most likely for me. Casually, I make my way to the door to unlock the store, and all was well until her hand met my face in an angry, violent fashion. I rub my face. "Well, Guten Morgen to you too."

"Don't joke around with me." She hisses.

"I wasn't joking. It's morning and called kindness and a greeting." My face burns in an unpleasant way.

"Why am I hearing Antonio and Francis discuss who the 'mystery man' is? Or should I ask, why am I hearing that you are screwing some guy behind my back?"

"Well, actually, I'm pretty sure you'd know if it was just behind your back." Bruder's sarcasm is contagious.

"Well, actually, I'd like to know ahead of time of my boyfriend's gay exploitations, before everyone else embarrasses me, but you don't seem to care. So, Ludwig, tell me, is it true?" She's going to hit me either way, so what the hell?

"Sicher," I shrug.

"Why?" Her eyes search for faults.

"First time, I was shit-faced drunk. All the rest, it just felt...right."

"And is this _before_ or _after_ you slept with me?"

"Before." After walking in on that sleazebag, I don't really think I want to leave doubts in Bruder's mind; I've never felt so _possessive_ before...

"Are you still seeing him?" Ja, I _live_ with him.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, Ludwig! It really matters!"

"Ja," My hand runs through my hair and rests on my neck.

"What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing, I just don't think I'm your type."

"You think? Oh, and your brother told me about what happened in Georgia. Way to lie to my face."

"What about Georgia?" He wouldn't.

"You couldn't tell me your father was dead?"

"I didn't want to bother you with it." True.

"And here I thought you were Mr. Perfect."

"No one's perfect."

"Whatever!" She stomps out of the store. Does that mean we're over? A sigh escapes my lips as I sit behind the desk and read news on the internet.

– –

The door is a dark imitation wood, and when opened, it reveals a room, crowded and thick with humidity. I wade through the sea of people to the bar, and Bruder is rushing to meet people's orders. Searching for a stool, I glance up at him; he looks attractive in his uniform. I snag a stool in the center of the bar and watch him move; his eyes are so concentrated and clear. He's so focused that I guess he doesn't notice me; his hands so effortlessly and flawlessly make drinks quickly and efficiently.

"New here?" A guy asks from my left. I nod. "I see you noticed everyone's favorite bartender." He points at Bruder. "Men and women alike _love_ him; hell, even I have a little thing for him. He's beautiful though, and no one can get him to go out on a date, well, except Roy. However, he's a genius with words."

"Oh, well, he wanted me to come down and see where he worked." I muttter.

"You know him? Personally?"

"Ludwig!" Bruder smiles at me.

"Gilbert," I smile back.

"Sorry, I didn't come by the store today, I just –"

"It's fine; I wanted to see you work anyways." He leans over the bar, pulls me closer to him, and kisses me. Everyone is watching me, us. Looks of disgust and jealousy are given, and whispers inform of disapproval of such a public display of affection between two men. He pulls away.

"So beer?" He offers as he walks away to fetch it before I can object. He hands me a glass. "Just drink." I take a sip and taste Dr. Pepper.

"Danke." I smile, as he walks to serve others.

"So, you know him?" The man asks.

"Ja," My eyes are fixated on Bruder.

"One has to wonder how he became so skilled with his hands." Bruder holds four champagne flutes in one hand and three bottles of alcohol in the other. He pours three drinks with the first two bottles and the last one with the third bottle, then serves them.

"He wanted to be a surgeon." I mutter as I drink the Dr. Pepper. "He worked hard, and studied for hours."

"So why is he here?" The man seems intrigued.

"He quit, dropped out of school, and couldn't do it for personal reasons." He never said why he quit, never seemed to care even after all that work, never acted like it mattered; I guess that he just gave up on school. "He likes it here though; 'no expectations' is how he puts it."

"Who would have known?" The man chuckles to himself.

"Ja," Bruder walks out from behind the bar, grabs my hand, and drags me into the restroom. "Gil, what are you –?"

"Shut up." He pushes me into a stall, locks it behind him, and presses his body against mine. His lips smash into mine; his hands run through my hair.

"Can't you wait until we get home?" My pants are getting awkwardly tight.

"Nein, I want you." He bites my neck.

"But it's gross in here." It is; all public toilets are.

"Fine, let's do it in your car." He whines in my ear.

"Nein, at home." I command.

"Fein." He practically runs me out to the car. "_Drive_." I start the car and begin to drive; his hands slowly rub my thigh, making me shiver. He kisses my cheek as his hand unzips my pants.

"Bruder..." I glance at him quickly.

"Shhh, you'll like it, so watch the road." His hand slips my boxers down. "Besides, you're _so_ hard." His hand runs up and down my length.

"Ahhh," I struggle to keep my eyes on the road as he begins to stroke me. Strokes turn to pumps, and I shudder in pleasure. His hand stops, but soon, he replaces his hand with his mouth. His mouth is warm and distracting me. I pull into the driveway and park the car. I can feel the back of his throat, and my breathing gets harder by the second. "Gil, dear Gott!" I can feel myself release in his mouth. He comes up from my lap with a small amount of seed on his chin. He kisses the corner of my mouth.

"Ich liebe dich." He wipes his chin. "So how bout you pay me back now." He smirks. I get out of the car, and he grabs my hand, pulling me into the house. I press him against the door. He is a wildfire; I am a glacier. I want to ravish him, and weeks ago, I would think that I was insane to make such a statement. I bite his lip; his hands yank my head closer to his. Maybe it's because of Feliciana that I've been so _drawn_ to Bruder. Whereas she was gentle, I yearned for the abrasive side. He bites my neck. "Do you know how long I've been thinking about this?" I shake my head. "It made it impossible to do a lot of things." He smirks as I push his shirt over his head; his hands rip at my shirt until I finally slide the thing off. His eyes demand action, as we trip up the stairs and finally fall on the bed; I run my hand along his chest, earning a delightful shiver. His body is hot to the touch, and I kiss his collarbone and all the way to his navel. My hands unbuckle his belt, unzip his pants, and remove both articles. As for the boxers, I yank them down with my teeth. I lick the tip of his length, and he whimpers a bit. My index finger runs up and down his sensitive skin lightly. He gasps when I start to stroke him; hesitantly, I replace my hand with my mouth. I'm just going off what I _assume_ he was doing, which I guess is right because I can hear tiny moans emitting from his mouth. His hands entangle in my hair, and I gag a bit when he hits the back of my throat. "Ke-se-se-se, where did you – _fuck_ – learn that?" His eyes peer through lidded eyes. I leave his hard length to kiss him, earning a confused yet disapproved moan. He kisses back, slipping his tongue into my mouth, and our tongues intertwine, passionately yet still lustful. I slide a finger into his ass; his body tenses a bit. He kisses me again, and his arms are around my neck. I add another and begin to move them; he buries his head in my shoulder which causes a tiny smile on my face. My hand quickens its pace and adds another finger, earning a growl. "Nicht mehr foreplay." He bites at my neck, as I position myself; I begin to press into him. He returns his face into my shoulder and arches his back; it feels so different from before. Maybe it's because I'm not denying myself the pleasure? "Hahhh, Ludwig." He moans into my ear; his breathing is blowing into my ear and feels awkwardly pleasant. His hand holds mine, and I slowly gain a pace. His hand is squeezing mine enough to draw blood.

"Ahh, Gil," a blush forms across his face, when his name is called. I acquire a need to go faster and harder, causing him to gasp for air. His legs wrap around my waist, and his fingers press into my back.

"Ludwi– _AH_!" His fingers press harder against my back, as I hit deeper than ever, or so I think. His lips bite greedily at mine, and my hand pulls him closer to me. His moans get shamelessly loud, but why should we be quiet? His face is red, and his red eyes are almost the same hue as his face. He pulls me down into a kiss, as he cums all over our stomachs; I rest my forehead on his. He continues to kiss me, while I focus on lasting longer than possible. He kisses my neck.

"_Fuck_!" My conscience returns, and I'm completely embarrassed. Who else can say 'I just came inside mein älterer Bruder?'

"Well," he kisses my neck. "Aren't you cute?"

"Vas?" I swear my face is four hundred degrees.

"Your face when you came was adorable." His lips suck on my neck.

"Shut up." After I lie down, he nestles his face in my neck.

"Liebst du mich." I can imagine the smirk on his face.

"I do, Gilbert." I stare at the ceiling. "Did you know that _literally_ everyone in that bar wants to fuck you?"

"Do they know that I only want to fuck you?" Stupid witty comeback.

"I talked with some guy." I mutter.

"About?"

"How good you are with your hands."

"He has _no_ idea how good I am with my _mouth_. Ke-se-se-se."

"I meant with your...skill in bar-tending." I sigh.

"I know." He props himself up on his elbow; his eyes survey my every move.

"Gil, I have a question." I feel like I'm five again, and he's helping me with my homework.

"I probably have an answer, Lud."

"Why did you just drop out of school? You tried really hard, got good grades, and really wanted to be a surgeon." Silence fills the room; I can hear his steady breathing.

"I just did." He sounds distant.

"Why?" I turn to look at him, watch, and gauge his reaction. He covers his face with his hand.

"Because, I couldn't..."

"Couldn't what?" I watch his mouth hesitate and try to piece together words.

"When I was in med school, you were seventeen, and we were broke as shit. That's why we came to America, where everyone gets rich and does what they love. Bullshit. Vati opened his store and made a bit of money."

"So why?"

"Because, it was expensive, so I dropped out and started bar-tending with the intention of going back to school. Slowly, I just became content with bar-tending."

"There was enough money to put me through college though." I don't remember ever having financial issues when it came to college.

"I specifically dropped out because then you'd be able to go to college. I, um, thought you would use it better than I did." His lip is trembling. Here I thought he just gave up on it, but in reality, he never wanted to give it up but did for me.

"Gil," I touch the side of his face and kiss him.

"I'm glad; I was able to do something for you." He falls quiet. "How much longer do you have?"

"Four to eight years, most likely six or less. I'm skipping my masters and going straight for the doctorate."

"Damn, I wish I thought of that." I wrap my arms around him.

"I'm glad you didn't. I like you as a bartender."

"I don't know if I like you as a shrink. We'll figure out eventually." He rests his head against my shoulder.

"Psychologist, therapist, psychiatrist but not a shrink." I correct.

"Therapists are weird. It's the words 'the' 'rapist,' so you go to school just to be called a rapist." While his pun may be true, no one else thinks like that.

"When do you think about these things?" He rests his hand on mine.

"Just now, when you said 'therapist.'"

"Liar."

"It's true!" His frustration is obvious.

"Well, at least I didn't want to cut people open for a living." I tease.

"It could be fun." He points out.

"Or gross."

"Some kind of doctor you are." He hisses. "Whatever, you need to get one of those long white coats, because I think you'd look sexy in it."

"I should make wardrobe choices granting your weird fetishes?"

"Exactly." He yawns. "I'm tired."

"Then sleep."

"I will!" He closes his eyes, and I watch him drift off into a world of dreams. Some urge makes me brush the hairs out of his face. _"Get your own slut."_ The statement from the 'genius with words' makes me want to punch his damn lights out. Bruder is _not_ a slut and _definitely not_ his.

**A/N:** Gilbert's been looking out for Ludwig, and Ludwig didn't even know. Please Review.

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	20. Twenty

**Twenty.**

I watch Bruder sleep, and the sunlight flickers on his porcelain skin. He moves a bit, and I nuzzle his neck with my nose. His eyes snap open, and he slides his hand down my chest. He places a gentle kiss on my lips as he strokes my length. He's blowing into my ear, causing shivers around my body. His leg grazes mine, and we both know that we would rather stay in bed and ravish each other than get up and work. To his dismay, I sit up and stumble to the bathroom. My hands grab my toothpaste and toothbrush, then brush my teeth. My eyes scrutinize my appearance. My hair is going every which way, and my eyes float about dark circles from what could be assumed as lack of sleep, which it probably is. After last night's _exploitation_, I couldn't sleep, so I stayed up for hours studying for finals. From textbooks to notes to essays, I read everything to study from. He peeks out from the shower, as I spit out used toothpaste.

"Join me." He offers.

"Nein, I have to get to work." I rinse off my mouth and face.

"Bitte," he tries.

"I'm not in to shower sex, Gil." I comb back my hair and put on deodorant.

"Come here," he motions with his hand for me to come closer; I comply. He kisses me, licks my neck in an attempted sensual way, and bites me.

"_Scheiße_!" I press my hand to my neck instinctively. "Am I bleeding?"

"Ja, but that's what you get for _not_ joining me." He smiles and goes back to showering.

"Verdammt," I press a tissue to my neck, but the wound bleeds through regardless. "That was _completely_ unnecessary!"

"It was _completely_ necessary. I don't want you running back to Feliciana; I'm a jealous person, you know?" I can just see his pouting face.

"I didn't know, but you couldn't just leave a hickey?"

"Nein, I think a bite mark is more intimate, ke-se-se-se."

"Well, I'm going to work." Taping a gauze pad with medical tape on my neck, I walk out of the room to put on clothes: a black, red, and gold polo, dark-wash blue jeans, converse with black, red, and gold that I never knew I _had_. Today is casual. Pouring a cup of coffee that was already made because I _finally_ programmed the stupid thing, I grab my messenger bag and walk into the garage. I check my phone before I start the car, one missed call from Mutti. I call my voice-mail and wait for the message: 'Hey, Ludwig, I was thinking about visiting you some time soon, but only if you're not too busy.' Hanging up the phone, I throw it on the floor of the passenger side seat and start the car. You know how things like driving get so mundane that you don't even realize that you're doing it? Well, that's my routine. Before I know it, I'm unlocking the store and walking inside. Like always, I'm sitting on a stool behind the desk reading notes on my laptop. The bell on the door chimes, signaling another person in the store. "Hello."

"'Hello?' Since when do you say that?" The familiar Italian voice asks.

"I don't want any trouble." I answer.

"Are we over or not?"

"I assumed we were with how yesterday's conversation ended."

"I didn't."

"Well, I don't know where to go from here." I admit.

"I want to see you tomorrow night."

"I can't..." My hand rubs the back of my head.

"Give me one good reason why." She looks at her feet.

"I'm making up a test that night." Lie, but believable none the less.

"Oh, well, I need to talk to you."

"We're talking right now." Why am I getting irritated?

"I just want to talk to you outside of the store."

"Why not here?"

"Fine, Ludwig, I love you, and I'm willing to forgive you for your cheating." She holds my hand.

"I can't forgive myself," lie. "This just won't work; I'm sorry."

"Ludwig..." Her hand touches my face.

"Nein, it's not going to work."

"What's his name?" Her brown eyes are digging into my soul, trying to find a name.

"I'm not going to hurt you with that information." Let's leave it at that.

"Francis has the craziest idea." Her gaze becomes angry.

"Vas?"

"He thinks that the person you're cheating on me with Antonio." What? Well, Francis never was _smart_, just perverted.

"Ha-ha, Antonio?" To think, I was afraid that she would say Bruder.

"I _will_ find out who it is!" She confirms.

"Have fun with that." I encourage, sort of.

"I have to go to work, but maybe we could get coffee some time?"

"Maybe," meaning probably not.

"Well, ciao." I watch her leave; it's hard to be harsh to someone that you used to be close to... I return to studying my notes.

– –

"As you all know finals are around the corner, so today is a study hall." Dr. Swartz informs. Everyone, including myself, pulls out their text books; some get into study groups. My laptop starts up and I begin to read over 'Goldberg's Big Five' and 'Maslow's Triangle of Needs' and other basic psychology concepts.

"Ludwig, you definitely need to study with me!" Toby calls from a few feet away.

"Nein, you're never here. You just want my notes." I point out.

"Yeah, ha-ha, but really you should help me."

"Why?"

"Because you'd be the encyclopedia of epicosity in person, and that's just awesome!" It's hard to take this guy seriously.

"That didn't make _any_ sense." I sneeze.

"Bless your face."

"Don't do that..."

"Why do have to be so serious?"

"Warum musste ich, um mit dieser Dummkopf geklebt werden?" My hand rubs my temples.

"Ich bin nicht dumm, ich weiß auch Deutsch." I forgot that bit.

"Fine, I'll help you, but we're discussing not just reading my notes."

"Sure, whatever. I'm just busy all the time, and being the hoarder that I am, there's never any space on my laptop for notes. Unlike you, do you ever keep anything on here?"

"Notes."

"Besides those."

"My background." I have a family picture as my background, which is comforting, since well, Vati's dead and Mutti lives far away.

"Nice family," too bad they aren't nice to each other.

"Danke."

"You're bleeding?" He points to my neck.

"Oh," I peel off the medical tape; it's no longer bleeding, which is nice. It just looks like something tried to eat me.

"You look like you just got tasted by a zombie."

"Danke." My remark was clearly sarcastic.

"So is that from _him_?" He motions towards Dr. Swartz?

"Nein! Why would it be from –?"

"Well, rumors say that you and Dr. Swartz are a thing."

"Well, rumors are _rumors_! He's my teacher for Gott's sake!"

"You never know; some guys prefer older men." Now that I think about Bruder is _older_, but only by eight years... "or older women."

"My ex-girlfriend was _younger_." I inform irritably.

"Oh okay, so explain all these concepts on this study guide."

"You are a ridiculous son of a –"

"_Biscuit_."

"_Right_..."

– –

After another excruciating three hours of Toby's nonstop talking, I gladly walk to my car and all its silence. My hands rest on the steering wheel, start the car, and guide me home. The mundane everyday routine continues, a boring cycle. I close my eyes for a while and can see the glare of red through my eyelids. When I notice the red glare turn green, I open my eyes and hit the gas, and the rest is drowned in the sound of crushing metal, blaring car horns, and the sound of one of the accidents that happens every thirteen seconds. My chest is sore; not matter how much air I gasp into my lungs, it always comes up short. My arm is searing with pain and dripping with AB- ruby liquid. My car is wrecked to shit, and my vision's getting fuzzy.

"_Scheiße_..." I rest my hand over my face as the blinking blue flashing lights fade out of my vision along with everything else.

**A/N:** AB-, interesting... Please review.

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	21. Twenty one, with Gilbert

**Twenty-one, with Gilbert.**

**A/N:**** (****Disclaimer)** Last chapter referenced Toby 'Tobuscus' Joe Turner who owns himself, and I happened to be watching a video of his when I was finishing that chapter so his epicosity was leaked into this less epic story.

Bruder called me, so naturally, I'd pick it up.

"Guten Nacht, Bruder, come down to the ba–" I answer.

"Are you a relative of Ludwig Weillschmidt?" A man asks sternly, definitely _not_ Bruder.

"Ja, warum?" My hand grips my phone.

"At 11:15, Ludwig Weillschmidt was admitted into the hospital after a car accident near the local university."

"Vas...?" My grip on the phone is tight enough to snap it in half.

"Ludwig Weillschmidt is in the ER."

"M-m-make sure you don't give him acetaminophen, aspirin, or any other generic pain killer..."

"Thank you for telling us ahead of time. I assume we'll be seeing you soon?" The phone smacks the floor.

"Mon ami, where are you going?" Francis calls from the bar, but that doesn't matter. Nothing matters. _How could you drink fifty beers? "It wasn't that bad, was it?" Vati freaked out; I thought you were a goner. The doctors didn't think you were going to make it either. "I guess, I'm just lucky." _My legs won't run fast enough for me; why does something _always_ come up? My calves burn from lack of exercise, but that can't stop me now. My leg refuses to bend which throws me off balance, but I catch myself and my breath. "Need a ride and your phone?"

"Ja..." I slip into Antonio's car, where Francis hands me my phone.

"Where to?"

"The hospital," I stare at my hands, anxiously opening stuff on my phone. Then I see the picture that I took in secrecy while we were kissing. My heart is beating faster than this car is driving, which makes me feel anxious, but all I can do is stare at this picture, which makes me calm for some odd reason...

"What are you looking at?" Francis turns around to peek at my screen, when I press the home button, revealing my black, red, and gold banner background.

"Random stuff on my phone." I run my hand through my hair.

"We're almost there." The car slows down. I don't know what made me do it, but I threw the car door open and ran out of the still moving car. "Gil! What the hell?" Once I get to the building, I have to wait for the stupid automatic door to open for me; they should replace these. They're too slow. My brain is a mess, and I can't think anything clearly. My feet bring me to the desk; my hands smack on the desk. When I open my mouth, I have no words...

"Sir, is there someone you are looking for?" The nurse asks irritatedly.

"...Weillschmidt...?" Car accident, someone dies every thirteen minutes from a car accident. _"I guess, I'm just lucky."_ I hope to Gott that you are. I can hear the muffled sound of numbers, like someone is yelling through a pillow. My eyes open and close; my mouth opens, no words.

"I said 'room three-ninety-one.'" She repeats.

"Danke," I reply over my shoulder as I rush to the staircase; three flights of stairs sounds faster than an elevator. My anxiety is eating at my mind and sanity; first flight, second flight, _finally_ third flight and the door that leads to the hallway. The door feels heavier than it should, or is that me? My feet click on the over-sanitized floor; the walls are a sick, fluorescent green color. To think that I would have worked here everyday. My eyes scan the rooms, left, right, left, right, left, room three-ninety-one. A doctor stands in the room, and he looks awfully familiar. My hand drags a chair to the bedside of a cold body.

"Gilbert?" The doctor inquires; I turn to the man.

"Luke?" Verdammt, Scheiße.

"Ha-ha, who'd have thought that I would see your face after you dropped out, and to think, I was jealous of you because you were the top of the class."

"Shut up, I can tell you every procedure you did." I hiss back; I didn't drop out because it was hard. My eyes scan Bruder; my hand points to the tube protruding from Bruder's side. "That means he probably fractured a rib or two and punctured a lung. I believe it was poorly inserted because you can see the bruised, irritated area around the tube. It's to drain out all the blood and Scheiße out of his lungs, while you use the mask to help him breathe."

"Right, well, I have the medical degree, and you don't. So what's the big deal over slight irritation?"

"Ja, his hand," I point out, attempting to change the subject. "Fractured maybe at the wrist, as if he protected his face, and depending on the side of the car crash, slight concussion and mild whiplash."

"Smart." Luke humors.

"I always was better than you, so get over your stupid degree and shut up."

"Well, I'm still an intern, so the doctor himself will be here any second, but I hear that you're bar-tending now?"

"Ja, I'm damn good at that too!" A sickly familiar man walks through the door.

"We all know that already, _Gilbert. _Mr. Smith, you don't need to deal with this anymore." The man waves Luke away. "Gilbert, it's so _wonderful_ to see you _again_. After last time, when I didn't get to _finish_, because that fucking jackass." He points to Bruder.

"Great, here I thought I'd never have to see you again." I hiss.

"Isn't it cute when helpless things try to be threatening?" His hand rubs my face.

"Don't touch me, _Roy_."

"I could just fuck you here and now and get away with it, and I bet you'd hate for your _boyfriend_ to wake up to _that._"

"Get away from me."

"It's funny, really; to see someone like _you_ in an _actual_ relationship."

"You don't know me." He's _really_ starting to piss me off.

"But I do; you slept your way into valedictorian and then, dropped out of medical school. I assume because you couldn't sleep with the professors to get yourself an 'A?'" His smug look is just begging to meet my fist. "Oh, and let's not forget about your little physical relationship with an engaged woman. Face it, _nothing_ about _you_ says 'committed,' or do I have to break it to Mr. Sunshine that his little _kitten_ likes to drink other people's _milk._"

"Shut up," Bruder wouldn't think that way because he cares about me too, right?

"If he knows all this already, he's probably just using you like I am for fun."

"Shut up."

"You just don't like being factored out as a whore."

"Shut up.."

"You didn't even know my name that night, but you still went home with me. Tell me, Gilbert; why do you think someone like _you_ deserves someone like _him_? Why do you think you _deserve_ a relationship?"

"Where do you get off on your high horse? You didn't know my name either! To add to that, you were taking advantage of someone younger than you!"

"By eight years, is that so bad? Besides, it was consensual, so don't go pulling that bullshit."

"How do you know all of this about me?"

"College records, you would have been my intern, and the other stuff is from the bar. Everyone _loves_ to talk about you there, so here's your options finish what you started last time. Refuse is the second option, but Mr. Sunshine may get a fun dose of acetaminophen."

"I believe this is more of the threatening nature." I state bluntly.

"So you choose; do you love him enough to do something that would disgust him? Or do you want to stay faithful but allow him to be in harm's way?" The last time I dealt with Roy, it ended with me disgusting Bruder, but he forgave me. However, I don't think he would be so kind this time. Why can't you just wake up? Bitte... "Choose."

"Warum?" Wake up and tell him to fuck off like you did before... Wake up and say something incredibly stupid... Wake up because you're scaring me... Wake up and kiss me... Wake up because I miss you...

"Visiting hours are over, so make up your mind now." Roy hisses.

"Well," wake up before I make another stupid decision...

**A/N:** So return of Roy, for those who were wondering where he went; I honestly forgot about him... Please Review.

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	22. Twenty two

**Twenty-two.**

I open my eyes, and there's a throbbing pain in my head and a tube coming out of my side. My left forearm is bandaged in gauze. My body is sore almost everywhere. My eyes wander about the white room: white walls, white floor, white sheets, white chairs against the walls, and a white head of hair resting on the bed; I ruffle his hair gently. He must have been here all night; his eyes open as he slowly sits up, rubbing his eyes.

"What happened?" I ask quietly.

"You got into a car accident, punctured a lung, and fractured your wrist." He sounds irritated but worried as he sets himself on the edge of my bed.

"Told you I was lucky." My mouth forms a comforting smile.

"Hardly," he leans against my shoulder.

"When was the accident?"

"Last night, don't worry, you weren't in a coma, ke-se-se-se." His hand rests on mine; my hand turns and intertwines with his. I rest my head against his. "I was scared."

"I'm sorry." My head hurts. I hear the door open but choose to stay where I am; it feels better to lean against him and close my eyes than lift my head.

"Good morning, Mr. 'Sunshine.'" A voice hisses from the edge of the bed; I peek through one of my eyes at the _doctor_, or rather _Roy_.

"You've got to be kidding me!" I implore.

"I must admit, I thought the same thing." His eyes are stone cold and filled with malevolent intentions. "Of all people in this godforsaken city, I end up treating _you_, and the only thing I got back was being able to see your little 'kitten.'"

"He's more of a bird than a kitten." Bruder's grip tightens, nervously.

"Why is that?"

"People keep throwing him into cages and trying to clip his wings."

"Very poetic of you, but he's not that innocent."

"I know, but _I don't care_." Emerald green eyes cut into mine.

"You don't care?" His tone sounds amused. "You wouldn't care whatever sick thing he's done?"

"We all do stuff we regret."

"Yes, but I'd like to know if you wouldn't care about the sick moans he was making as I bent him over my desk and fucked him raw." The thought of him and Bruder... It was hard to believe...

"We _all_ do stuff we _regret._" I can feel Bruder tense up against me, and it breaks my demeanor to think that maybe, just _maybe_, he did _it_. "What kind of doctor are you anyway? You're not supposed to sleep with a patient's relatives. It's against the books."

"No one plays by the books. Besides, it was consensual. Wasn't it, Gil?" All eyes are on Bruder, but I don't want to know. He opens his mouth, but I don't want to know.

"Get out of my room!" I demand.

"What's this?"

"It's called 'I'm pissed off, so get the fuck out, you fucking sociopath!'" To my delight, he leaves, and that leaves the awkward silence between the two of us. There isn't a clock in the room to tick away the time. There is an excess amount of silence, and it dawns unto me that the damned doctor was probably telling the truth. Bruder hasn't done anything to vindicate himself.

"Wow, I'd never expect that from you." Bruder stares at me.

"I have a headache, and he would not shut up."

"It's not true." He confirms. "I wouldn't cheat on my own Bruder."

"So my car is shit now; are you happy that I have to buy a new one?"

"Nein." I can see the smirk out of my peripheral vision.

"You liar."

"I know." He kisses me. "Get something sexier."

"Oh darn, I thought that as long as _I_ was driving, _anything_ was sexy enough for you."

"Nope, you need to be expensive and flashy to impress me."

"That sucks, because I'm a working stiff with an apparent pole up my ass."

"Are you sure that's a pole?"

"Are you serious?"

"Ke-se-se-se, it's probably not a pole." He teases.

"Last time I checked, I was top."

"Not when I took your virginity." He sticks his tongue out in a teasing manner.

"You've never given me that sober experience." I whisper into his ear and hear him gulp audibly.

"Some other time." His face is dusted lightly with warm pink.

"So how are we getting home?"

"Walking, if you don't mind."

"Sure, so where's Dr. Sociopath? I want to leave and report his sorry ass when we leave or, at least, give him a poor evaluation."

"There you go all business; you even get revenge all formal like." He pouts.

"It's more efficient."

"Whatever."

– –

When it came down to the money, I just got my car fixed, which was still a pain in the ass because Saab decided to just disappear off the face of the earth after it was bought by Spyker. Bruder still pouts now and then about my stupid, _Swedish_ car. My own room remains what looks like a guest room, with my clothes in the closet. Something about Bruder's bed is more comfortable than mine; sure, it's probably just a pathetic placebo, but shut up. However, I refused to sleep in a dump of a room, so I end up cleaning while he's at work. He ends up making messes when I'm gone though, but to get back at him, I've decided to keep him in the dark about Mutti coming for a visit. Besides, those two need to get along for at least one meal. Of course, nothing happens the way I want it to, and I learned that when I sent Bruder to open the door.

"The doorbell rang." I sigh, making my way out of bed.

"Nein," he pulls me back. "I'll get it."

"Are you sure?" He slips on a pair of pajama pants.

"Ja," he kisses the corner of my mouth. "Be right back."

"Okay." I wait for it, and within around five minutes, I hear footsteps stomping up to the room.

"Why is _she_ here?!" He hisses.

"I invited her."

"_Why_?!"

"Because, the two of you need to grow up and get along." It's true.

"I don't want to!"

"Well..."

"Ja, you can't take away anything!"

"No sex for you!"

"Vas?!"

"You heard me; get along with her or no sex for you for two months."

"But if I _do_ put up with her for however long, I get to top?"

"Deal." I held out my hand to seal the deal; he shook it.

"Get ready to experience having something other than a pole up your ass."

"Don't get too cocky."

"I need to be, when I win."

"That's not even what that word means."

"Loosen up a bit; it'll hurt like a bitch if you don't." I just choose to let him go on his reels of innuendos.

**A/N:** I apologize for my prolonged absence (if anyone really cared). I ended up rescuing kittens, and got preoccupied with kittens and schoolwork. Interestingly, my pets' vet is Dr. (or whatever you call a veterinarian) Edelstein. Anyways, I finished a bunch of schoolwork last minute, and now, I can do what I love again, write my mediocre fanfiction. Please review.

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	23. Twenty three

**Twenty-three.**

I follow Bruder downstairs, where Mutti waits patiently. I round the corner, and there she is. Her face is amazed and the slightest bit confused. Amazed because all the décor and furniture is in the same place, as she left it, and the confusion is stirred by the obviously amateur patch up in the wall. I run my hand through my hair to get it out of my face.

"You haven't changed a thing." She whispers.

"It just felt comfortable to leave it the way it was." I shrug.

"I must ask where this blemish in the wall came from?" She hasn't looked at me once.

"Recklessness." What's the point of blaming?

"Right," she looks at Bruder; he just shrugs. That's a first. She turns to look at me, in all my brokenness. "What happened to you?!"

"Car accident, they're still fixing my car, so we can't go anywhere far..." Her face reminds me of how bad I must look, gauze pad taped to my side, wrist brace attached to my arm. "It's no big deal, ha-ha."

"It looks like it could have been." She cups my face in her hand. "I worry about you all the time, Ludwig."

"Ja, well, I'm fine. Bruder came and picked me up the next day, and we came home." I try to pull out a smile.

"Weren't fine when it happened." Bruder remarks. "I get a call at work informing me that my brother got into an accident right outside of school, dummkopf."

"Yeah, well, I was fine the next day!" I would like my point to be the one that is remembered.

"That's nice, but where should I put my bags?" She asks.

"I'll get them; you get the master bedroom. Bruder and I haven't changed rooms since you left." I mention as I walk towards the front door to get her bags. My ears receive the pleasant murmur of a decent conversation striking up between Bruder and Mutti. I can hear a bit of laughter as I walk up the stairs. Who knew he could actually be a civilized human being around her? I place the bags at the foot of the large king-sized bed and walk down the hall to my own room to put on some pants and a shirt. I make my way downstairs to find Mutti at the table reading the newspaper, while Bruder makes her tea, _tea_ for Gott's sake. "Since when do _you_ know how to make tea?"

"Since I made a bet," he answers with a smirk clearly on his face.

"Making tea won't win your bet."

"One step at time, mein kleiner Bruder." He turns to Mutti. "Would you like honey?"

"I don't buy it." I hiss into his ear.

"Oh, sure, thank you, Gilbert." She sounds enthralled.

"My pleasure," he smiles and whispers in my ear as he walks by. "I'm going to win, so why don't you just give me my prize tonight?"

"Nein," I reply as I walk over to the table. "So what's in the paper?"

"Politics," she replies distastefully.

"What is it today?" I watch Bruder wander upstairs, it's 10:30, meds.

"Borderline slander."

"So how are you doing in Georgia?" I ask, changing the subject.

"It's a bit backwards, but nice."

"You prefer to live in a backwards society?"

"It's nicer there; I wish you and your brother would come down, leave this godforsaken city behind."

"I like it here; it's a bit hectic, but nice." I yawn involuntarily.

"You look tired." Yeah, well, Bruder is demanding and won't let me sleep half the time.

"I've been distracted lately." I rub my temples.

"Now, _that_ is a sight." Mutti remarks in humorous disbelief.

"Vas?" I look up and observe Bruder taking his meds.

"When did you start –?"

"For the past few years, but I guess, I just never mentioned it." He sighs, downing his pills.

"Well, I'm glad you've been on track." A smile graces her face.

"You can thank Ludwig for that, Sir Shrink." He mocks.

"I told you _already_ that I'm not a '_shrink_.'" I remind irritatedly.

"I know." He smiles.

"You two are definitely his boys, ha-ha." She covers her mouth, but she can't stop laughing.

"What's so funny?" I ask.

"Only your father would have such an issue with terms so simple used like 'shrink.'" Bruder stares at the floor, silent.

"Right, well, what would you like to do today?" I suggest.

"Let's go to the mall." She offers.

"You know, we have to walk..." Bruder reminds.

"I know, but it's not that far." I optimize.

– –

Walking to the mall wasn't an issue, it was the crowds and just the mall in general. We returned home, and Mutti retired to her room. Bruder went to his room, and I studied for exams. By 'study,' I mean Toby called me with Skype, and we got into _discussions_, arguments, about everything _but_ psychology.

"Wait a minute!" He interrupts.

"What?!" I reply irritated.

"You've got some smudge." He takes his camera and wipes it off on his shirt. "There, all better."

"You have ADD."

"Or OCD because OCD people are ADD about perfection. Yeah, you should think about these things some time."

"Or study."

"Which is no fun."

"Says the guy who makes money playing video games."

"Dude, I would _die_, if I actually had to _work_."

"Anyways, you are more likely to develop this disorder if a family member has it and/or if something 'triggers' it in your genes."

"I don't know...All of them."

"Are you even trying?"

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not." I hear my door open and close, and footsteps pad across my floor. An arm wraps around my neck, and a hand shuts the laptop. "Must you cut my studying session short?"

"You looked irritated." He whispers into my ear.

"I still needed to study."

"Do _that_ later, and do _me_ now." He blows into my ear, causing my body to shiver.\

"You're demanding, and no." I reply bluntly.

"Why not?" He whines.

"Mutti is down the hall, so unless you want her to stumble upon us having sex, no."

"Maybe I want her to see."

"You _don't_."

"You're no fun." He pouts; I kiss his lips.

"So you've _never_ had fun with me?"

"No."

"Why not?" I sit on the edge of the bed.

"You're like an old man. You work and sleep and occasionally have sex." He sits in my lap.

"Aren't you a little too old to be sitting like that?"

"Aren't you thinking a too little to get the hint?"

"I'm tired." I pull my shirt over my head and lie down.

"Old man."

"What does that make you?"

"Benjamin Button, I reverse age."

"That's bullshit." I pull him down into my arms. "Sleep with me."

"Take your pants off then!"

"I meant sleep, not fuck." I bury my face in his hair.

"You're a hopeless romantic."

"You love me, so I'm not so hopeless after all, ha-ha."

"I did well today, with _her_ I mean..."

"You amazed me yet again."

"You're like Vati."

"Hmmm?"

"Always amazed in the simple things."

"Ich liebe dich."

"Always?"

"Ja."

**A/N:** I have started school, and I will keep trying to get these chapters out. Please review or suggest something if you'd like.

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	24. Twenty four

**Twenty-four.**

I wake up to a silent house. Slipping out of bed, I grab a pair of pants and slip them over my boxers; closing the door behind me, I walk down the hall to peer into the master bedroom. Mutti's gone. My feet shuffle down the steps with easy and, by habit, walk to the kitchen. Mutti isn't here either. Bruder's sitting at the breakfast bar. He pats the seat beside him, a gesture to sit, so I do as requested and read the paper over his shoulder. Her bags are still here, so where could she be?

"She's out with old friends." He places the paper on the counter. "Until four."

"Oh, ok." I reach for the paper, and his lips crash into mine. "Vas?"

"I can't keep your bet, so before you win and take away sex, give me this one time?"

"But what if she comes home?!" A blush is flooding my face.

"It's only eleven." He looks into my eyes, pleadingly.

"Fine." He grabs my hand away from the paper and leads me to the couch. In one awkward motion, he's on top of me, hands all over my chest.

"Bitte." He coos into my ear as his hand ventures south and his lips caress my neck.

"Why please?" I nuzzle his neck.

"Can I top?" His lips are still on my neck, and his hand is stroking me underneath my boxers.

"But –"

"_Bitte_." He sounds so desperate.

"Ja." He slips my pants off my legs. My hands pull his shirt over his head and rest on the waistline of his pants.

"Danke." He sucks on my neck. A gasp escapes my lips, and warmth swells in between my legs. "Someone's happy to see me." He's smirking, but he sounds sad.

"Of course." He slides my boxers down and kisses his way down to my erection. His finger slips into my ass; I involuntarily inhale sharply. It caught me off guard. He begins to move his finger and takes me in his mouth while slipping in another finger. Unconsciously, my hands grip his hair, and I realize that this is different than before. He's silent. He adds another finger and continues his tasks. "Ich liebe dich."

"..." He stops, and I fear that he'll go on a tangent about something he doesn't like. He presses against my entrance, no hesitation. With the tiniest amount of preparation that there was, he thrusts in completely, no mercy. A wince falls from my lips, and he bites my Adam's apple lightly as he finds his pace and continues. He won't look at me. His name rings from my vocal chords, and I wish he would look at me. I don't regret it, that this is how I lost my virginity; he's making muted noises. I fear that he isn't enjoying this as much as I want him to, so I try to move. Something that could be considered a hiss escapes his lips. Naturally, I recoil and enjoy the friction between the two of us. His breathing is getting louder and louder, until his thrusts slow but increase in force. Moans come crying from my mouth, shameless. I don't want him to stop; I wonder if I'm this good when I top. "Shit..." He pulls away from me, and his warm juices drip onto my skin. I sit up to kiss him, but he won't look at me.

"Hey," I kiss his neck, and I want him. I pull him down, backwards, onto the couch.

"Vas?"

"If we're not going to have sex for two months, I get some too." I lick his neck.

"Oh," I somehow end up above him; who knows how we flipped on that couch. His hand strokes my still existing erection. My hands run up and down his sides; our lips crash. Tongues pressing to win in a wrestling match. His eyes are closed. I slide two fingers into his ass; he bites his lip to evade moaning. His persistence to avoid passion bugs the hell out of me. His body responds otherwise though, and that makes me a little less concerned. His hips rise to meet my hand as I pull them in and out. His body is radiating with heat, and another finger is sucked into him.

"Ich liebe dich." He buries his face in my shoulder. I pull my fingers out and quickly replace them with my erection; his eyes are glued shut. His arms are around my neck, and he refuses to make a noise. I begin to move, and his hips continue doing that thing, meeting me halfway. I go all out; I want him to cry my name and look at me. Little moans drip from his lips as I thrust harder, faster. _Please_, look at me. My hand brushes the side of his face; my other hand strains under my weight. I cup his face as I kiss him, and his eyes open the tiniest bit to look into my eyes.

"Shit, I can't do this." He admits sheepishly.

"Vas?" He moans loudly, like he always does. His hips meet mine on every thrust, and his nails dig into my back. His legs wrap around my waist, and I get the slightest bit harder at his sudden excitement. I can feel my stomach swell, and I prepare to pull out. His legs refuse to let go, and his eyes scream at me to stay inside him. I feel myself release, and his moans shamelessly into my neck. "Ich liebe dich."

"Danke." He allows me to pull away.

"Just so you know, I was never planning on banning you from sex." I mention sheepishly.

"Well, I was planning on not having sex with you for two months."

"Well, now you don't have to." I smile.

"Ja, I do." He looks at the floor.

"Vas?"

"Mutti came here for a reason." He sighs. "I'm twenty-eight."

"So?"

"She wants me to get married before I'm past my 'prime.' I'm like a damn fruit to her."

"So?"

"So, this is the end." He grabs his clothes.

"Nein, you can't just _say_ 'this is the end!'"

"Why not? What we're doing is wrong anyway. Thanks for the fun." He slips on his boxers and pants.

**A/N:** Please Review.

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	25. Twenty five

**Twenty-five**.

"Ludwig, meet Madeline; Madeline, meet Ludwig, my brother." Bruder introduces the young blonde woman; his hand rests on her waist, and something is really pissing me off.

"Nice to meet you." Bullshit, what the fuck is he thinking?!

"As it is to you." She whispers; who knew that he'd 'like' a shy woman.

"Anyhow, let's go." He kisses her forehead. "Oh, I put your laundry in your room, Ludwig."

"Danke," what the hell is wrong with you.

"See you 'round." They leave, and I've never felt so alone.

"Ja." Since when do you do laundry? Since when did I mean nothing to you? Since when did you care what Mutti said to you? Since when did you _want_ to grow up? Since when did any of these matter to me?

"Madeline's a nice girl; now, we all have to hope you'll find one as nice as her." Mutti remarks from the entrance to the kitchen. "She sure fixed his attitude."

"Why?"I stare at her.

"Because he needed to be broken, Elizaveta let him do whatever he wanted, so he never learned what a _real_ commitment requires."

"'Broken?' Do I need to be 'broken' too?" I hiss.

"Since when do you care? You always wanted him to be _just like you_."

"I'm going to study." I stomp my way up to my room; how could he? Why would he? Does he really like her? I pick up my textbook and begin mindlessly reading, but nothing makes it past my eyes into my brain. I can't focus, and it's not fair. How could he leave me?

– –

The exam was easy; multiple choice is easy. Recollection of facts is easy; pacing yourself is easy. Why isn't life like this? My hand holds the test towards Dr. Swartz, and he takes it, nodding to acknowledge that I may leave. On my silent way to the car, I realize that I have no desire to go home; no initiative to do anything. How could I let myself be so consumed by him? What did I used to do all this excess time? Right, I read books and kept to myself. Why? How? What the hell?!

Nonchalantly, I make my way to my room to leave my stuff on the floor and flop onto the bed. I've wasted my life for my idiot brother, and this is the wake up call. When I open the door, my eyes meet those stupid, captivating eyes. He's here, and I'm happy. He's here, and I'm pissed off. He's here, and I don't want him to leave.

"Get out of my room." I hiss; he just sits on my bed.

"She's nice, Madeline that is." He states flatly.

"That's great." My brain blocks him out; he doesn't matter or even exist to me for that matter. He's going on a tangent about something, and I can't find the reasons to listen. My hands grab my laptop, and I begin to type a list of things that frustrate me, all of which had to do with Bruder and Madeline.

"You're not listening."

"I don't care."

"Stop being a child!" That broke my patience. _I_ wasn't the _child_; _he_ is the _child_. My hand grabbed his wrist, and I pushed him against the wall. It wasn't fair, but I wouldn't stand to be called a child.

"Take. It. Back. _Now_."

"What's your issue?"

"_What's_ my _issue_?!" How could he do this? How? That's just not humanly possible.

"You're not listening to me."

"I don't _need_ to. Stop being a kid and make up your fucking mind! First, you were all into Elizaveta. Then, it was you and me. Now, it's you and Madeline. You tell me why?! Why would you do something so hypocritical? You hate being used, so you wouldn't do it." My hands are twisted in his shirt, and tears are tempting the ledges of my eyelids.

"She knows. Mutti." He sighs.

"About what?"

"Us, that's why. _I'm_ the _sick bastard_ who wants to _fuck_ my younger brother! Maybe, I wanted her to accept me for once and save your ass from her! Ever thought of that?!" His voice drops down low. "I'm sick and tired of _this_, so let me go."

"Who was I kidding? We're nothing alike." I force a laugh, and he walks away.

**A/N:** Really short chapter, which I apologize for. I hope you at least somewhat liked it, but I just took a little break from college shenanigans. Please review.

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	26. Twenty six

**Twenty-six.**

"Do you like her?" I ask the air in front of me; how do you approach such odd situations? "Why?"

"I'm home." Bruder calls from the door.

"Welcome home." He slumps into a chair and waits; I'm not exactly sure what for.

"So, I'm moving out..." The tone in his voice pisses me off.

"Why?"

"I like Madeline, and she likes me."

"That's no reason to live with her!"

"Fuck you!"

"I could say the same! What do you see in her?!"

"Well for one, she's not my brother!" He takes a moment. "For another, she's not bothered with me being a psycho."

"I never thought –"

"But you looked at me with that condescending pity; everyone does that!"

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is. You don't get it; do you?" He stands up, turns towards the door, and walks away. "Tschüs."

– Two years later –

More boxes to be packed, this house is an empty shell. No one wants to live here, and no one's keeping me here. I'll leave, and that will be the end of it all. With the extra time, I dedicated my leisure time to acquiring my doctorate and thus, earned it sooner than predicted. Now to follow through with the rest of my plans; Germany, here I come. A paper slips off my desk as I move a box into the other room. My foot touches it as I lean down to pick it up; the calligraphic print disturbs me. My thumb presses against the paper in preparation to open it, when the doorbell rings; the letter falls back to the floor. I rush to the door, open it, and meet her beautiful honey brown eyes.

"Ludwig," she smiles.

"Grace," my lips graze hers.

"I can't believe _you_ beat _me_ in getting your doctorate." She teases; her sandy brown hair bounces as she moves.

"What can I say? I tried really hard." Her hand pushes me into the house, as her other closes the front door behind herself.

"I guess I should reward you, yeah?" A smirk pulls at her lips.

"Well aren't I special?" I joke.

"Shhh, my cooking is damn good!" She walks towards the kitchen; I follow. "What's with all the boxes?"

"I didn't tell you? I'm leaving in a few months." My hand rests on the back of my neck; I've been trying to avoid the inevitable 'why' and 'what about me?'

"For where?"

"I don't know;" I _absolutely _know. "Maybe –" _definitely – _"Germany. I grew up there and stuff."

"'Stuff?' You're only twenty-two, going on twenty-three; it seems staying stationary is the best idea for you."

"Well, I am, until July."

"What about me?"

"You'll acquire your doctorate and be the best damn psychiatrist ever."

"What about the bookstore?"

"I'm selling it, keeping most of my favorite books."

"Is this a joke?" Her voice sounds stressed, controlled.

"No, I need a change of scenery."

"Then move out of this stupid house! Not into another country!"

"I'm doing both."

"I don't get you sometimes." She withdraws and walks into the kitchen. I watch her move about, slipping every now and then because of her socks. "I _finally_ find an ambitious, loyal guy who's not all about sex, and he _leaves_!"

"Calm down, I'm right here."

"I'm making dinner!"

"I can help."

"I don't want you to!" She walks over with a beer in hand. "Drink for all I care. I'm busy." She marches back to the kitchen. She sits in one of the kitchen table chairs, pulls her hair back, and sighs. Her footsteps grow more audible, and when I open my eyes, she's standing in front of me with an orange bottle. "Don't forget these, okay?"

"Thanks." She walks back into the kitchen. Frustration from lack of understanding burns in my mind; I've experienced this before. I was on the other end though and didn't understand. My hand squeezes the orange bottle as I slip it into my pocket; my feet shuffle along the floor as I approach her. She's intent on cooking, unmoved, upset. My arms wrap around her waist as I rest my head on hers. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, maybe I was expecting too much out of this relationship."

"I don't have to go; I mean, I can stay, if you want me to." Her body tenses.

"No, because then I'd be weighing you down."

"N–"

"I would be." She stirs the homemade Alfredo. "I should apologize for getting so worked up."

"No." I will always be the one who has to apologize.

– –

We drink our alcohol. I would say beer, but Grace is too _sophisticated _for beer. She drinks wine. We watch the news and all the terrible on-goings. It's not to really listen to; it's a secret way that I sickly feel like less of a unfortunate. Grace stands up, walks over to the desk, picks up the fancy envelope, and walks back to the mattress with it. My bed has been unceremoniously thrown onto the floor without a box-spring; it's been here since a month ago, when I stopped wanting to go upstairs to all the empty rooms. She opens the letter, regardless that it's not hers. She hands me the card from inside the envelope:

_You have been invited to celebrate the union of_

_Ms. Madeline Amelia Williams_

_and_

_Mr. Gilbert Frederick Weillschmidt_

Another slip of paper falls to the floor; unlike the card, it's handwritten. _'Better show up, you're the best man after all.' _What kind of hell is this?

**A/N:** Short, I agree and apologize.


	27. Twenty seven, with Gilbert

**Twenty-seven, with Gilbert.**

It wasn't my idea to invite him. In fact, I would rather never see him again, but Madeline just said 'he's your brother, of course he'd want to come.' To all honesty, I know he doesn't want to; we didn't really leave off on a nice note. Then, I was at the crossroad between Antonio and Francis for best man, so Madeline reminded me that I could always invite Ludwig. I regretted it after I put it in the mail, but if he doesn't want to show up, he doesn't _have_ to. I often wonder how awkward it would be between us. At the altar, the 'love of my life' walking down the aisle while I stand next to my 'dirty little secret.' I'm just asking to be called out on something.

"I'm home," Madeline calls from the door as she sheds her coat and places it in the closet by the door. She's beautiful, always has been.

"How was tending to sick people?" I humor while I walk towards her.

"Pleasant, surprisingly." She kisses me, and I still have these random flash memories of Ludwig. It's sickening, and time has passed "How are you?"

"Hmmm? Taking calls, or checking off all the people who are planning on attending our thing."

"Our _thing_? That's an interesting way of saying wedding." Her hands rest on my sides.

"Ja, I just kind of spaced out there."

"You do that a lot lately; are you okay?"

"I'm fine; it's just some words seem to run away from me at some times." It's true really. Antonio asked me about my brother, and it just didn't register as Ludwig in my head.

"I can just see it now; words like 'wedding' running out of your head into the air."

"That would be the weirdest thing to ever experience or see, so if that ever happens, make sure to take a picture."

"I will."

"Hey, just remember, I love you." "_Ich liebe dich"_

"I love you too, King Frederick."

"Do I _look_ like Frederick the Great of Prussia to you?"

"You look great, but I prefer Gilbert more."

"I hope so."

– –

My eyes wander to the clock on the bedside table. It's 3:33, and I can't sleep. The thought of marriage feels suffocating, and it worries me. Madeline has no idea about my several escapades of sleeping with different people, and I fear the reappearance of Ludwig. I can't take this; I need some fresh air and a beer. I swing one leg over the side of the bed and watch Madeline as I slip out of the bed entirely. I salvage a beer from the fridge and walk out onto the balcony of our apartment. The air is cold, a bit too cold at that, but it's open and pleasant. I crack the beer open on the railing of the balcony and sit on the grated surface. Ludwig is twenty-two now; that's two birthdays without a single word from me. I'll admit it was cold of me to just up and leave, but I was desperate to get away from him. I was too selfish and ridden with perversion to stay with him, but it was also selfish of me to just leave. Or perhaps, he didn't give a shit about me, and he thought 'good riddance' when I got pissed and left.

I still have dreams – nightmares, really – that I'm still at that house, with him. They're baited with bliss and pleasure and netted with guilt and regret; I love them but _should_ hate them. My guilty pleasure used to be Elizaveta, yet somewhere, it shifted to the illegal, immoral pleasure of my own younger brother. The worst of it? He's still in that house, and I could go there anytime that I want to. I just can't work up the courage to face that kind of regret. I went there once, stood at the door trying to figure out something to say, some half-ass apology, but I left. I should have apologized for pledging a false love and deceiving him over and over; 'love' was an abused word and only used for getting what I wanted. I've always been the worst. The sound of the door sliding open startles me to my feet.

"I thought that you'd be out here." Madeline coos. She sits next to me and rests her head against my shoulder. Her hair is soft and smells of raspberries. "What's troubling you?"

"Just stuff," I give the generic answer; there's no reason to murder ghosts of the past. "It's kind of a boring story."

"I'd like to hear it." She delves into my defense. "Besides, you're never boring."

"That's a lie, ha-ha." Maybe, she'll leave well enough alone.

"But really, what's bothering you?"

"Well, I invited someone from my past to the wedding, and I – well – I'm afraid of facing this person again. We didn't leave off on good terms, and I haven't talked to this person since. The very thought of seeing this person again is eating away at me." Confessions come so easily when around Madeline; it's the names that get lost in the transition from my thoughts to my words.

"Is this person your brother?"

"Ja," for reasons that you probably don't or don't want to know.

"I talked to him, and he said that he'd go for fittings with us." Her hand rests on my arm, and I continue to drink my beer. It's calming, and thankfully, she doesn't mind. "And if anything bad happens, we'll resolve it."

"Of course, thank you for being so amazing." But Ludwig still lingers in the back of my head, and it hurts because it will never go away. _"Don't lie about leaving. I couldn't stop thinking about it all day. All day, I thought 'I need to see him, before he leaves me.'"_ Yet, I left him and didn't even consider him when I walked away. I denied everything and just exploited our differences and wrongs, nothing more or less. I never looked at it with a positive mindset; I didn't want to. I was selfish and wrong, and now that I think about it, I still am.

**A/N:** Two updates in one day? I have been gone for two months, so it's the least I could do. That and I wanted to give both opinions at once, but I like using first person. It turned out as two chapters. I hope you enjoy it.

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


	28. Twenty eight

**Twenty-eight.**

I want to hit him, beat the wind out of him, and I know for a fact that I _could_. After dwelling on this thought, I realize that the only thing I _truly_ wish to do is hold him close and kiss him, the way it used to be. Now, I'm back on the thought of hitting him, and a smile pulls at my face.

"Yes, could you lift your arm, sir?" The seamstress-man – what is the term for that? – asks of me, dragging me back to where I really am. Standing on a piece of floor that is six inches off the ground, staring at Gilbert as we're getting fitted for suits. He hasn't said a word. Perhaps that's why I want to hit him, beat out some kind of answer. I deserve that much, right? _No_. Maybe, it's because I have anger management due to my faulty genetics that wanted to stay incognito until I was a complete adult according to society. So now, I get to be the psychologist that has to pay a psychiatrist to give me pills. You'd _think_ I would be able to do it myself, but _no_, some people ruin everything for everyone else. "Um, you can put your arm down..."

"Oh, sure, thanks." I didn't even recognize, but that's what I get for going off on a tangent in my head. Why does he keep staring at me? If you're going to look at me, at least say 'hi' or 'long time no see.' No, you just stare. Speak. Now. Possibly. Or never. Fine, fuck you.

"–?" My eyes watch and follow the way his mouth moves, and it almost doesn't register as words or that he's talking to me. My ears can't hear anything. "Ludwig, we can leave now, if that's comfortable for you?"

"Ah, sure." My hands are already unfastening the buttons. I want out of here; it's suffocating, the suit, the room, this life. On my way to the changing room I've already thrown off the multiple assets of the upper half of the suit, and currently, my hands fumble with the pants, as I kick the door closed behind me. I already plan on leaving before the wedding, so this is all a waste of time to make him feel better about himself. Why?

- Three Months Later -

Over the course of time, I lost interest in my belongings and sold them. I have a few books to keep for memory's sake, my laptop, coffee mug, wallet, messenger bag, a few pairs of clothes, everything manageable. It's July 6th, and I'm lying in bed staring at this very ceiling for the last time. In an hour, Gilbert is pledging his life to Madeline, and in three hours, I'll be on a plane. I don't intend on going to the wedding; I couldn't care less. My legs slide off the bed, and in unison with my legs, my spine pulls me off the bed. There's no reason for me to go. I went to all their stupid rehearsals, and you'd think they'd sense my distaste after sitting through all of that, but _no_. No one ever notices when anything is off. No one knows what's going on in my head.

It's 11:30; I don't have work or school. My resolve? Sleep. I rest my eyes for a few minutes, and those minutes turn into an hour. My phone screams for my attention, and my hand just shoves it onto the floor. It keeps screaming, so I have to pick it up and at least check it. 'Gilbert.' It can go to voice-mail. The sound is impossible to ignore, and he won't give up. I know that for a fact and first hand experience. Experience that I wish I never had.

"What?" I unintentionally hiss into the receiver.

"WHERE ARE YOU?!" He's panicked, kind of like that one road trip we took years ago.

"Getting ready to leave." He doesn't know yet and thinks that I'm talking about leaving to the church.

"Just _NOW_?!"

"Yup, my flight's in two hours; you know what they say about flying. Leave two hours early." I can hear people in the back ground shouting.

"You fucking idiot!" I can hear yelling of his name and his breath getting hitched in his throat as he hangs up. I make my way to the bathroom, to shower, shave, get ready to be on a plane for ten to eleven and half hours. I don't want to feel and smell like a homeless guy.

I step out of the bathroom, and I have returned to my old ways. Boxers are allowed to be worn any time all the time in my own home. A knock resonates and echoes throughout the empty house, and I casually make my way to the door. As I unlock it, the door rips open. Red eyes meet blue. "He-" He shoves me into the house, shutting the door behind him. He kisses me, and I'm confused.

"I hate you." He mutters.

"Then don't touch me." I retort coldly.

"I can't lie anymore." He stares at his feet. "I thought that you would have caught on earlier, but no, you're selfish and can't think for a split second. I don't love Madeline, but I can't – shouldn't – love you. I figure if I deceived myself that it would go away, but it didn't. So I avoided you, and that worked well, until you were invited to the wedding. Then shit broke and fell apart."

"Bullshit," his hands clench into fists; his frustration peaks.

"I've never cared for anyone like I do –" The sound of fast skin-to-skin contact slices through the air. I didn't mean to, but I was so sick of excuses. He holds his cheek, but his eyes stare down instead of glare up.

"I – I'm sorry. I just – I didn't want to – you _left_." What is _this_?! All this work that I've done to ignore this, avoid what I want; it's all biting into me. It's all too much. Too much hate, hurt, but more than anything humiliation. "I love you."

**A/N:** And once again, thank you for your support and reviews.

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


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